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EDWARD STRATEMEYER’S BOOKS 


©ft ©lorg Series 

Cloth Illustrated Price per volume $1.25. 

UNDER DEWEY AT MANILA Or the War Fortunes of a Castaway. 

A YOUNG VOLUNTEER IN CUBA Or Fighting for the Single 
Star. 

FIGHTING IN CUBAN WATERS Or Under Schley on the Brooklyn. 
UNDER OTIS IN THE PHILIPPINES Or a Young Officer in the 
Tropics. 

THE CAMPAIGN OF THE JUNGLE Or Under Lawton through 
Luzon. 


ie Bounti to SucmtJ 

Three volumes Cloth Illustrated Price per volume $/. 00. 

RICHARD DARE'S VENTURE Or Striking Out for Himself. 
OLIVER BRIGHT’S SEARCH Or The Mystery of a Mine. 

TO ALASKA FOR GOLD Or The Fortune Hunters of the Yukon. 

©jje S&fjtp anti Sfjore Series 

Three volumes Cloth Illustrated Price per volume $1.00. 

THE LAST CRUISE OF THE SPITFIRE Or Luke Foster’s Strange 
Voyage. 

REUBEN STONE'S DISCOVERY Or The Young Miller of Torrent 
Bend. 

TRUE TO HIMSELF Or Roger Strong's Struggle for Place. 






“ I’ll fix you for that ! ” he roared. — Pcujc 12. 



TRUE TO HIMSELF 


Roger Strong's Struggle for Place 


BY 


EDWARD STRATEMEYER 


AUTHOR OF “THE LAST CRUISE OF THE SPITFIRE,” “REUBEN 
STONE’S DISCOVERY,” “ UNDER DEWEY AT MANILA,” “ A YOUNG 
VOLUNTEER IN CUBA,” “FIGHTING IN CUBAN WATERS” 

“ UNDER OTIS IN THE PHILIPPINES,” “ THE CAMPAIGN 
OF THE JUNGLE,” “RICHARD DARE’S VENTURE ” 

“OLIVER BRIGHT’S SEARCH,” “TO ALASKA 
FOR GOLD,” ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED BY A. B. SHUTE 


o 


BOSTON 

LEE AND SHEPARD PUBLISHERS 

1900 




TWO COHlto 

Library of Congr«t% 
Office c f tb« 

JUM 7-1 900 

Keglitir of Copyrlgfcfg, 

a. 7 //^ 




Copyright, 1891, by Frank A. Munset. 
Copyright, 1900, by Lee and Shepard. 

True to Himself. 






Norfoooh $reaa 

J. S. Cushing & Co. — Berwick & Smith 
Norwood Mass. XJ.S.A. 









PREFACE 


“ Tkue to Himself,” while a complete story in 
itself, forms the third volume of the “ Ship and Shore 
Series,” tales of adventure on land and sea, written for 
both boys and girls. 

In this story we are introduced to Roger Strong, a 
typical American country lad, and his sister Kate, who, 
by an unhappy combination of events, are thrown upon 
their own resources and compelled to make their own 
way in the world. 

To make one’s way in the world is, ordinarily, diffi- 
cult enough ; but when one is handicapped by a cloud 
on the family name, the difficulty becomes far greater. 
With his father thrown into prison on a serious charge, 
Roger finds that few people will have anything to do 
with either himself or his sister, and the jeers flung at 
him are at times almost more than he can bear. But he 
is “ true to himself ” in the best meaning of that say- 
ing, rising above those who would pull him down, and, 
in the end, not only succeeds in making a place for 
iii 


iv 


PREFACE 


himself in the world, but also scores a worthy triumph 
oyer those who had caused his parents’ downfall. 

When this story was first printed as a serial, the 
author has every reason to believe it was well received 
by the boys and girls for whom it was written. In its 
present revised form he hopes it will meet with equal 
commendation. 

EDWARD STRATEMEYER. 

Newark, N.J., 

April 15, 1900. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

L 

The Trouble in the Orchard 


• 

9 


PAGE 

1 

II. 

An Assault on the Road 

. 


• 



10 

m. 

The Models . 






19 

IV. 

The Tramp Again . 

. 

• 

• 

• 


27 

V. 

Following John Stumpy 

. 

• 

• 

• 


34 

VI. 

A Strange Envelope . 

. 

• 

• 

• 


43 

VII. 

A War of Words . 

. 

• 

• 

• 


50 

VIII. 

The Struggle 

. 

• 

• 

• 


57 

IX. 

Xew Trouble . 






64 

X. 

Under Arrest 

. 


• 

• 


73 

XI. 

Aaron Woodward’s Visit 

. 



• 


81 

XII. 

A Surprise 

. 



• 


89 

XIII. 

An Interesting Conversation 


• 



97 

XIV. 

The Price of Silence . 

. 

• 

• 

• 


105 

XV. 

An Odd Statement 

. 

• 

• 

• 

• 

113 

XVI. 

My Uncle Enos 

. 

• 


• 

• 

123 

XVII. 

A Sudden Resolve 

. 




• 

131 

XVIII. 

In Mr. Woodward’s Library 


• 



139 

XIX. 

A Clever Ruse 

. 

• 

• 

• 

• 

147 

XX. 

At the Prison 


• 

• 

• 

• 

154 


V 


yi 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

XXI. 

A Midnight Adventure . 

• 

• 

• 

• 

PAG* 

161 

xxn. 

A Telegram 

• 

• 

• 

. 

168 

XXIII. 

In Chicago .... 





176 

XXIY. 

Who Mr. Allen Price was 

• 

• 

• 

. 

184 

XXV. 

An Exciting Adventure . 

• 

• 

• 

. 

191 

XXVI. 

Sammy Simpson . 

• 

• 

• 

. 

199 

XXVII. 

The Palace of Pleasure 


• 

• 

. 

207 

XXVIII. 

A Deal for a Thousand Dollars 

• 

• 

. 

215 

XXIX. 

The Precious Papers 


• 

• 

. 

223 

XXX. 

The Train for New York 


• 

• 

. 

231 

XXXI. 

In the Metropolis 

• 

• 

• 

. 

239 

XXXII. 

A Night at the Hotel . 

• 

• 

• 

. 

246 

XXXIII. 

In Brooklyn 

• 

• 

• 

. 

254 

XXXIV. 

Mrs. Agatha Mitts . 


• 

• 

. 

261 

XXXV. 

The Widow Canby’s Money 

. 

• 

• 

. 

268 

XXXVI. 

“All’s Well that ends Well” 


• 


274 


LIST OP ILLUSTRATIONS 


1 I’ll fix you for that ! ’ he roared ” . . Frontispiece 

PAGE 

‘ Hi, there, what are you doing in my boat ? ’ ” . 93 

i Stop, stop ! ’ roared Mr. Woodward ” . . . 151 

‘ Hello, you ! — I want those papers back ! ’ ” . . 236 





TRUE TO HIMSELF 


CHAPTER I 

THE TROUBLE IK THE ORCHARD 

“Hi, there, Duncan Woodward!” I called out. 
“What are you doing in Widow Canby’s orchard?” 

“ None of your business, Roger Strong,” replied the 
only scion of the wealthiest merchant in Darhyville. 

“You are stealing her pears,” I went on. “Your 
pockets are full of them.” 

“ See here, Roger Strong, just you mind your own 
business and leave me alone.” 

“ I am minding my business,” I rejoined warmly. 

“ Indeed ! ” And Duncan put as much of a sneer as 
was possible in the word. 

“Yes, indeed. Widow Canby pays me for taking 
care of her orchard, and that includes keeping an eye 
on these pear trees,” and I approached the tree upon 
the lowest branch of which Duncan was standing. 

“ Humph ! You think you’re mighty big ! ” he blus- 
tered, as he jumped to the ground. “ What right has 

B 1 


2 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


a fellow like yon to talk to me in this manner? You 
are getting too big for your boots.” 

“ I don’t think so. I’m guarding this property, and 
I want you to hand over what you’ve taken and leave 
the premises,” I retorted, for I did not fancy the style 
in which I was being addressed. 

“ Pooh ! Do you expect me to pay any attention to 
that? ” 

“You had better, Duncan. If you don’t you may 
get into trouble.” 

“ I suppose you intend to tell the widow what I’ve 
done.” 

“I certainly shall; unless you do as I’ve told you 
to.” 

Duncan bit his lip. “ How do you know but what 
the widow said I could have the pears ? ” he ventured. 

“ If she did, it’s all right,” I returned, astonished, 
not so much over the fact that Widow Canby had 
granted the permission, as that such a high-toned 
young gentleman as Duncan Woodward should desire 
that privilege. 

“You’ve no business to jump at conclusions,” he 
added sharply. 

“ If I judged you wrongly, I beg your pardon, Dun- 
can. I’ll speak to the widow about it.” 

I began to move off toward the house. Duncan 
hurried after me and caught me by the arm. 

“You fool you, what do you mean?” he demanded. 


THE TROUBLE IN THE ORCHARD 


3 


“I’m going to find out if you are telling the truth.” 

“ Isn’t my word enough? ” 

“ It will do no harm to ask,” I replied evasively, not 
caring to pick a quarrel, and yet morally sure that he 
was prevaricating. 

“ So you think I’m telling you a falsehood ? I’ve a 
good mind to give you a sound drubbing,” he cried 
angrily. 

Duncan Woodward had many of the traits of a bully 
about him. He was the only son of a widower who 
nearly idolized him, and, lacking a mother’s guiding 
influence, he had grown up wayward in the extreme. 

He was a tall, well-built fellow, strong from constant 
athletic exercise, and given, on this account, to having 
his way among his associates. 

Yet I was not afraid of him. Indeed, to tell the 
truth, I was not afraid of any one. For eight years 
I had been shoved in life from pillar to post, until now 
threats had no terrors for me. 

Both of my parents were dead to me. My mother 
died when I was but five years old. She was of a deli- 
cate nature, and, strange as it may seem, I am inclined 
to believe that it was for the best that her death 
occurred when it did. The reason I believe this is, 
because she was thus spared the disgrace that came 
upon our family several years later. 

At her death my father was employed as head clerk 
by the firm of Holland & Mack, wholesale provision 


4 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


merchants of Newville, a thriving city which was but 
a few miles from Darbyville, a pretty village located on 
the Pass River. 

We occupied a handsome house in the centre of the 
village. Our family, besides my parents and myself, 
contained but one other member — my sister Kate, 
who was several years my senior. 

When our beloved mother died, Kate took the man- 
agement of our home upon her shoulders, and as she 
had learned, during my mother’s long illness, how 
everything should be done, our domestic affairs ran 
smoothly. All this time I attended the Darbyville 
school, and was laying the foundation for a commercial 
education, intending at some later day to follow in the 
footsteps of my father. 

Two years passed, and then my father’s manner 
changed. From being bright and cheerful toward us 
he became moody and silent. What the cause was 
I could not guess, and it did not help matters to 
be told by Duncan Woodward, whose father was also 
employed by Holland & Mack, that “ some folks would 
soon learn what was what, and no mistake.” 

At length the thunderbolt fell. Returning from 
school one day, I found Kate in tears. 

“ Oh, Roger ! ” she burst out. “ They say father has 
stolen money from Holland & Mack, and they have 
just arrested him for a thief ! ” 

The blow was a terrible one. I was but a boy of 


THE TROUBLE IN THE ORCHARD 


5 


fourteen, and the news completely bewildered me. I 
put on my cap, and together with Kate, took the first 
horse car to Newville to find out what it all meant. 

We found my father in jail, where he had been 
placed to await the action of the grand jury. It was 
with difficulty that we obtained permission to see him, 
and ascertained the facts of the case. 

The charge against him was for raising money upon 
forged checks, eight in number, the total amount being 
nearly twelve thousand dollars. The name of the firm 
had been forged, and the money collected in New York 
and Brooklyn. I was not old enough to understand 
the particulars. 

My father protested his innocence, but it was of no 
avail. The forgery was declared to be his work, and, 
though it was said that he must have had an accom- 
plice to obtain the money, he was adjudged the guilty 
party. 

“Ten years in the State’s prison.” That was the 
penalty. My father grew deadly white, while as for 
me, my very heart seemed to stop beating. Kate 
fainted, and two days later the doctor announced that 
she had an attack of brain fever. 

Two months dragged slowly by. Then my sister 
was declared to be out of danger. Next the house 
was sold over our heads, and we were turned out upon 
the world, branded as the children of a thief, to get a 
living as best we could. 


6 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


Both of ns would willingly have left Darbyville, but 
where should we go? The only relation we had was 
an uncle, — Captain Enos Moss, — and he was on an 
extended trip to South America, and when he would 
return no one knew. 

All the friends we had had before deserted us. The 
girls “turned up their noses” at Kate, — which made 
my blood boil, — and the boys fought shy of me. 

I tried to find work, but without success. Even in 
places where help was wanted excuses were made to 
me — trivial excuses that meant but one thing — that 
they did not desire any one in their employ who had 
a stain upon his name. 

Kate was equally unsuccessful ; and we might have 
starved but for a lucky incident that happened just as 
we were ready to give up in despair. 

Walking along the road one day, I saw Farmer Til- 
ford’s bull tearing across the field toward a gate which 
had been accidentally left open. The Widow Canby, 
absorbed in thought and quite unconscious of the 
danger that threatened her, was just passing this gate, 
when I darted forward and closed it just a second 
before the bull reached it. I did not consider my 
act an heroic one, but the Widow Canby declared it 
otherwise. 

“You are a brave boy,” she said. “Who are you?” 

I told her, coloring as I spoke. But she laid a 
kindly hand upon my shoulder. 


THE TROUBLE IN THE ORCHARD 


7 


“ Even if your father was guilty, you are not to 
blame,” she said, and she made me tell her all about 
myself, and about Kate, and the hard luck we were 
haying. 

The Widow Canby lived in an old-fashioned house, 
surrounded on three sides by orchards several acres in 
extent. She was well to do, but made no pretence to 
style. Many thought her extremely eccentric, but 
that was only because they did not know her. 

The day I came to her assistance she made me stay 
to supper, and when I left it was under promise to call 
the next day and bring my sister along. 

This I did, and a long conversation took place, 
which resulted in Kate and myself going to live 
with the widow — I to take care of the garden and 
the orchards, and my sister to help with the house- 
keeping, for which we received our board and joint 
wages of fifteen dollars per month. 

We could not have fallen into better hands. Mrs. 
Canby was as considerate as one would wish, and had 
it not been for the cloud upon our name we would 
have been content. 

But the stain upon our family was a source of 
unpleasantness to us. I fully believed my father 
innocent, and I wondered if the time would ever come 
when his character would be cleared. 

My duties around Widow Canby’s place were not 
onerous, and I had plenty of chance for self-improve- 


8 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


ment. I had finished my course at the village school 
in spite of the calumny that was cast upon me, and 
now I continued my studies in private whenever the 
opportunity offered. 

I was looked down upon by nearly every one in the 
village. To strangers I was pointed out as the con- 
vict’s son, and people reckoned that the “Widder 
Canby wasn’t right sharp when she took in them as 
wasn’t to be trusted.” 

I was not over-sensitive, but these remarks, which 
generally reached my ears sooner or later, made me 
very angry. What right had people to look down on 
my sister and myself? It was not fair to Kate and 
me, and I proposed to stand it no longer. 

It was a lovely morning in September, but I was in 
no mood to enjoy the bright sunshine and clear air 
that flooded the orchard. I had just come from the 
depot with the mail for Mrs. Canby, and down there 
I had heard two men pass opinions on my father’s case 
that were not only uncharitable but unjust. 

I was therefore in no frame of mind to put up with 
Duncan Woodward’s actions, and when he spoke of giv- 
ing me a good drubbing I prepared to defend myself. 

“Two can play at that game, Duncan,” I replied. 

“ Ho ! ho ! Do you mean to say you can stand up 
against me ? ” he asked derisively. 

“I can try,” I returned stoutly. “I’m sure now 
that you have no business here.” 


THE TROUBLE IN THE ORCHARD 


9 


“ Why, you miserable little thief — ” 

“ Stop that ! I’m no thief, if you please.” 

“Well, you’re the son of one, and that’s the same 
thing.” 

“ My father is innocent, and I won’t allow any one, 
big or little, to call him a thief,” 1 burst out. “ Some 
day he will be cleared.” 

“ Not much ! ” laughed Duncan. “ My father knows 
all about the case. I can tell you that.” 

“ Then perhaps he knows where the money went to,” 
I replied quickly. “ I know he was very intimate 
with my father at that time.” 

Had I stopped to think I would not have spoken as 
I did. My remark made the young man furious, and 
I had hardly spoken before Duncan hit me a stinging 
blow on the forehead, and, springing upon me, bore 
me to the ground. 


CHAPTER II 


AN ASSAULT ON THE ROAD 

I knew Duncan Woodward would not hesitate to 
attack me. He was a much larger fellow than myself, 
and always ready to fight any one he thought he could 
whip. 

Yet I was not prepared for the sudden onslaught 
that had been made. Had I been, I might have par- 
ried his blow. 

But I did not intend to be subdued as easily as he 
imagined. The blow on my forehead pained not a 
little, and it made me mad “clear through.” 

“ Get off of me ! ” I cried, as Duncan brought his 
full weight down upon my chest. 

“Not much! Not until you promise to keep quiet 
about this affair,” he replied. 

“ If you don’t get off, you’ll be mighty sorry,” was 
my reply, as I squirmed around in an effort to throw 
him aside. 

Suddenly he caught me by the ear, and gave that 
member a twist that caused me to cry out with pain. 

“Now will you do as I say?” he demanded. 

10 


AN ASSAULT ON THE ROAD 


11 


“ No.” 

Again he caught my ear. But now I was ready for 
him. It was useless to try to shake him off. He was 
too heavy and powerful for that. So I brought a 
small, but effective weapon into play. The weapon 
was nothing more than a pin that held together a rent 
in my trousers made the day previous. Without hesi- 
tation I pulled it out and ran it a good half -inch into 
his leg. 

The yell he gave would have done credit to a wild 
Indian, and he bounded a distance of several feet. I 
was not slow to take advantage of this movement, 
and in an instant I was on my feet and several yards 
away. 

Duncan’s rage knew no bounds. He was mad 
enough to “chew me up,” and with a loud exclama- 
tion he sprang after me, aiming a blow at my head as 
he did so. 

I dodged his arm, and then, gathering myself to- 
gether, landed my fist fairly and squarely upon the 
tip of his nose, a blow that knocked him off his feet 
and sent him rolling to the ground. 

To say that I was astonished at what I had done 
would not express my entire feelings. I was amazed, 
and could hardly credit my own eyesight. Yet there 
he lay, the blood flowing from the end of his nasal 
organ. He was completely knocked out, and I had 
done the deed. I did not fear for consequences. I 


12 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


felt justified in what I had done. But I wondered 
how Duncan would stand the punishment. 

With a look of intense bitterness on his face he rose 
slowly to his feet. The blood was running down his 
chin, and there were several stains upon his white 
collar and his shirt front. If a look could have 
crushed me I would have been instantly annihilated. 

“ I’ll fix you for that ! ” he roared. “ Roger Strong, 
I’ll get even with you, if it takes ten years ! ” 

“ Do what you please, Duncan Woodward,” I rejoined. 
“ I don’t fear you. Only beware how you address me 
in the future. You will get yourself into trouble.” 

“ I imagine you will be the one to get into trouble,” 
he returned insinuatingly. 

“I’m not afraid. But — hold up there!” I added, 
for Duncan had begun to move off toward the fence. 

“What for?” 

“I want you to hand over the pears you picked.” 

“I won’t.” 

“Very well. Then I’ll report the case to Mrs. 
Canby.” 

Duncan grew white. 

“ Take your confounded fruit,” he howled, throwing 
a dozen or more of the luscious pears at my feet. “ If 
I don’t get even with you, my name isn’t Duncan 
Woodward ! ” 

And with this parting threat he turned to the fence, 
j uirfped over, and strode down the road. 


AN ASSAULT ON THE EOAD 


13 


In spite of the seriousness of the affair I could not 
help but laugh. Duncan had no doubt thought it a 
great lark to rob the widow’s orchard, never dreaming 
of the wrong he was doing or of the injury to the 
trees. Now his nose was swollen, his clothes soiled, 
and he had suffered defeat in every way. 

I had no doubt that he would do all in his power to 
get even with me. He hated me and always had. At 
school I had surpassed him in our studies, and on the 
ball field I had proved myself a superior player. I do 
not wish to brag about what I did, but it is necessary 
to show why Duncan disliked me. 

Nor was there much love lost on my side, though I 
always treated him fairly. The reason for this was 
plain. 

As I have stated, his father, Aaron Woodward, was 
at one time a fellow-clerk with my father. At the time 
my father was arrested, Woodward was one of his prin- 
cipal accusers. Duncan had, of course, taken up the 
matter. Since then Mr. Woodward had received a 
large legacy from a dead relative in Chicago, or its 
suburbs, and started the finest general store in 
Darbyville. But his bitterness toward us still con- 
tinued. 

That this man knew something about the money that 
had been stolen I did not doubt, but how to prove it 
was a difficult problem that I had pondered many times 
without arriving at any satisfactory conclusion. 


14 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


I watched Duncan out of sight and then turned and 
walked slowly toward the house. 

“ Roger ! ” 

It was Mrs. Canby who called me. She stood on 
the side porch with a letter in her hand. 

“ You want me?” 

“Yes, I have quite important news,” she continued. 
“ My sister in Norfolk is very ill, and I must go to her 
at once. I have spoken to Kate about it. Do you 
think you can get along while I am gone?” 

“ Yes, ma’am. How long do you expect to be 
away ? ” 

“If she is not seriously ill I shall be back by day 
after to-morrow. You can hitch up Jerry at once. 
The train leaves in an hour.” 

“ I’ll have him at the door in five minutes.’ 

“ And, Roger, you and Kate must take good care of 
things while I am gone. There are several hundred 
dollars locked up in my desk. I would take the 
money to the bank in Newville, only I hate to lose 
the time.” 

“ I reckon it will be safe,” I replied ; “ I’ll keep good 
watch against burglars.” 

“Do you think you can handle a pistol?” she 
went on. 

“ I think I could,” I replied, with all the interest of 
the average American boy in firearms. 

“There is a pistol upstairs in my bureau that 


AN ASSAULT ON THE ROAD 


15 


belonged to Mr. Canby. I will let you have that, 
though of course I trust you won’t need it.” 

“ Is it loaded ? ” 

“ Yes ; I loaded it last week. I will lay it out before 
I go. Be very careful with it.” 

44 I will,” I promised her. 

I hurried down to the barn, and in a few moments 
had Jerry hooked up to the family turnout. As I was 
about to jump in and drive to the house, a man con- 
fronted me. 

He was a stranger, about forty years of age, with 
black hair and shaggy beard and eyebrows. He was 
seedily dressed, and altogether looked to be a disrepu- 
table character. 

“ Say, young man, can you help a fellow as is down 
on his luck ? ” he asked in a hoarse tone. 

44 Who are you? ” I responded. 

“I’m a moulder from Factory ville. The shop’s shut 
down, and I’m out of money and out of work.” 

“ How long have you been out ? ” 

“ Two weeks.” 

“ And you haven’t found work anywhere ? ” 

“ Not a stroke.” 

44 Been to Newville? ” 

44 All through it, and everything full.” 

I thought this was queer. I had glanced at the 
Want column of a Newville newspaper and had noted 
that moulders were wanted in several places. 


16 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


The man’s appearance did not strike me favorably, 
and when he came closer to me I noted that his breath 
smelt strongly of liquor. 

44 I don’t think I can help you,” said I. 44 1 have 
nothing for you to do.” 

44 Give me a quarter, then, will you ? I ain’t had 
nothing to eat since yesterday.” 

44 But you’ve had something to drink,” I could not 
help remark. 

The man scowled, 44 How do you know ? ” 

44 1 can smell it on you.” 

44 1 only had one glass, — just to knock out a cold I 
caught. Come, make it half a dollar. I’ll pay you 
back when I get work.” 

44 1 don’t care to lend.” 

“Make it ten cents.” 

44 Not a cent.” 

44 You’re mighty independent about it,” he sneered. 

44 1 have to be when such fellows as you tackle me,” 
I returned with spirit. 

44 You’re mighty high toned for a boy of your age.” 

“I’m too high toned to let you talk to me in this 
fashion. I want you to leave at once.” 

The tramp — for the man was nothing else — scowled 
worse than before. 

44 I’ll leave when I please,” he returned coolly. 

I was nonplussed. I was in a hurry to get away to 
drive Widow Canby to the station. To leave the man 


AN ASSAULT ON THE ROAD 


17 


hanging about the house with no one but my sister 
Kate home was simply out of the question. 

Suddenly an idea struck me. Like most people who 
live in the country, Mrs. Canby kept a watch-dog — a 
large and powerful mastiff called Major. He was tied 
up near the back stoop out of sight, but could be 
pressed into service on short notice. 

“If you don’t go at once, I’ll set the dog on you.” 

“ Huh ! You can’t fool me !” 

“No fooling about it. Major ! Major ! ” I called. 

There was a rattling of chain as the animal tried to 
break away, and then a loud barking. The noise 
seemed to strike terror to the tramp’s heart. 

“ I’ll get even with you, young fellow ! ” he growled, 
and running to the fence he scrambled over and out of 
sight. I did not wait to see in what direction he went. 

When I reached the porch I found Mrs. Canby bid- 
ding my sister good-by. A moment more and she was 
on the seat. I touched up Jerry and we were off. 

“ It took you a long time to hitch up,” the widow 
remarked as we drove along. 

“It wasn’t that,” I replied, and told her about the 
tramp. 

“You must be very careful of those men,” she said 
anxiously. “Some of them will not stop at anything.” 

“I’ll be wide awake,” I rejoined reassuringly. 

It was not a long drive to the station. When we 
arrived there, Mrs. Canby had over five minutes to 


18 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


spare, and this time was spent in buying a ticket and 
giving me final instructions. 

At length the train came along and she was off. I 
waited a few moments longer and then drove away. 

I had several purchases to make in the village — a 
pruning-knife, a bag of feed, and some groceries, and 
these took some time to buy, so it was nearly noon 
when I started home. 

Several times I imagined that a couple of the village 
young men noticed me very closely, but I paid no 
attention and went on my way, never dreaming of 
what was in store for me. 

The road to the widow’s house ran for half a mile or 
more through a heavy belt of timber land. We were 
jogging along at a fair pace, and I was looking over 
a newspaper I had picked up on the station platform. 
Suddenly some one sprang out from the bushes and 
seized Jerry by the bridle. 

Astonished and alarmed, I sprang up to see what was 
the matter. As I did so I received a stinging blow on 
the side of the head, and the next instant was dragged 
rudely from the carriage. 


CHAPTER III 


THE MODELS 

I HAD been taken completely off my guard, but by 
instinct I tried to ward off my assailants. My effort 
was a useless one. In a trice I found myself on the 
ground, surrounded by half a dozen of the fastest 
young men to be found in Darby yille. 

Prominent among them was Duncan Woodward, and 
I rightfully guessed that it was he who had organized 
the attack. 

“ Take it easy, Strong,” exclaimed a fellow named 
Moran, “unless you want to be all broke up.” 

“ What do you mean by treating me in this way ? ” 
I cried indignantly. 

“You’ll find out soon enough,” said Phillips, another 
of the young men. “ Come, stop your struggling.” 

“ I’ll do nothing of the kind. You have no right to 
molest me.” 

“ Pooh ! ” sniffed Duncan. “ The Models have a 
right to do anything.” 

“The Models?” I queried, in perplexity. “Who 
are they?” 


19 


20 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“ The Models are a band of young gentlemen organ- 
ized for the purpose of social enjoyment and to teach 
cads lessons that they are not likely to forget,” replied 
Moran. 

“ I suppose you are the members,” I said, surveying 
the half-dozen. 

“ We have that honor,” rejoined a boy named Bar- 
ton, who had not yet spoken. 

“ And we intend to teach you a lesson,” added Pult- 
zer, a short, stout chap, whose father had once been 
a butcher. 

“ What for?” 

“For your unwarranted attack upon our illustrious 
president.” 

“ Your president? You mean Duncan? ” 

“ Mr. W oodward, if you please,” interrupted Duncan, 
loftily. u I won’t have such a low-bred fellow as you 
calling me by my first name.” 

“ I’m no lower bred than you are,” I retorted. 

“ Come, none of that ! ” cried Moran. “We all know 
you well. We shall at once proceed to teach you a 
lesson.” 

I could not help smile — the whole affair seemed so 
ridiculous that had it not been for the rough handling 
I had received when pulled from the carriage, I would 
have considered it a joke. 

“You’ll find it no laughing matter,” said Duncan, 
savagely, angry, no doubt, because I did not show 


THE MODELS 


21 


more signs of fear. “Just wait till we are through 
with you. You’ll grin on the other side of your 
face.” 

“ What do you intend to do with me ? ” 

“You’ll see soon enough.” 

I began to think the affair might be more serious 
than I had imagined. Six to one was heavy odds, and 
who could tell what these wild fellows would not do ? 

“ I want you to let me go at once,” I said decidedly. 
“ If you don’t, it will be the worse for you.” 

“Not a bit of it. We intend that you shall remem- 
ber this occasion as long as you live,” returned Moran. 
“ Come, march along with us.” 

“ Where to ? ” 

“ Never mind. March ! ” 

For reply I turned, and made a hasty jump for the 
carriage, intending to utilize Jerry in a bold dash for 
liberty. I had just placed my foot upon the step and 
called to the horse when Moran caught me by the 
jacket and dragged me to the ground. 

“No you don’t ! ” he ejaculated roughly. 

“ There, Dune, catch hold of him ; and you too, 
Ellery. We mustn’t let him escape after we’ve 
watched two hours to catch him ! ” 

In an instant I was surrounded. Now that Duncan 
had his friends to back him he was brave enough and 
held my arm in a grip of iron. 

“ Any one bring a rope ? ” went on Moran. 


22 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“ Here’s one,” replied Ellery Blake. 

44 Hand it over. We had better bind his hands.” 

Knowing that it would be folly to resist, I allowed 
them to do as Moran had advised. My wrists were 
knotted together behind my back, and then the cord j 
was drawn tightly about my waist. 

44 Now march ! ” 

44 How about the horse and carriage ? ” 

44 They’ll be O. K.” 

There seemed to be no help for it, so I walked along 
with them. Had there been the slightest chance 
offered to escape I would have taken it, but warned 
by experience, all six kept close watch over me. 

Away we went through the woods that lined the 
east side of the road. It was bad walking, and with 
both my hands behind me I was several times in danger 
of stumbling. Indeed, once I did go down, but the 
firm grasp of my captors saved me from injury. 

Presently we came to a long clearing, where it had 
once been the intention of some capitalists to build a 
railroad. But the matter had drifted into litigation, 
and nothing was done but to build a tool house and 
cut away the trees and brush. 

The building had often been the resort of tramps, 
and was in a dilapidated condition. It was probably 
fifteen feet square, having a door at one end and a 
window at the other. The roof was flat and full of 
holes, but otherwise the building was fairly strong. 


THE MODELS 


23 


“ Here we are, fellows,” said Duncan, as we stopped 
in front of the door. “ Just let go of him.” 

The others did as he requested. But they formed 
a small circle around me that I might not escape. 

“Now that I have got you in a place free from inter- 
ruption I intend to square up accounts with you,” con- 
tinued the president of the Models. “You hit me a 
foul blow this morning.” 

“You brought it on yourself, Duncan,” I replied, as 
coolly as I could, though I was keenly interested. 

“ Stop ! How many times must I tell you not to call 
me by my first name.” 

“Well, then, Woodward, if that suits you better.” 

u Mr. Woodward, if you please.” 

“ Oh, come, Dune, hurry up,” interrupted Moran. 
“We don’t want to stay here all day.” 

“ I’m only teaching this fellow a lesson in politeness.” 

“ All right ; only cut it short.” 

“ See here, Moran, who’s the president of this club ? ” 

“ You are.” 

“Well, then, I’ll take my own time,” replied Dun- 
can, loftily. 

“ Go ahead then. But you’ll have to do without 
me,” rejoined Moran, considerably provoked by the 
other’s domineering tone. 

“I will?” 

“ Yes. I’ve got other things to do besides standing 
here gassing all day.” 


24 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“ Indeed ! ” sneered Duncan. 

“ Yes, indeed ! ” 

I enjoyed the scene. It looked very much as if 
there would be lively times without my aid. 

“You’re getting up on your dignity mighty quick, 
Dan Moran.” 

“I don’t intend to play servant-in- waiting for any 
one, Duncan Woodward.” 

“Who asked you to? ” 

“ ‘ Actions speak louder than words.’ ” 

“ I’m the president of the Models, am I not ? ” 

“ Yes, but you’re not a model president.” 

I could not help smiling at Moran’s pun. He was 
not a bad chap, and had he not been to a great extent 
under Duncan’s influence he might have been a first- 
rate fellow. 

Of course, as is the fashion among men as well as 
boys, all the others groaned at the pun ; and then 
Ellery broke in : — 

“ Come, come, this will never do. Go ahead with 
Strong, Dune.” 

“ I intend to,” was the president’s rejoinder. “ But 
you all promised to stick by me, and I don’t want any 
one to back out.” 

“I’m not backing out,” put in Moran. “I only 
want to hurry matters up.” 

There was a pause after this speech, then Duncan 
addressed me : — 


THE MODELS 


25 


“ Perhaps you are anxious to know why I brought 
you here ? ” 

“Not particularly,” I returned coldly. 

Duncan gave a sniff. 

“I guess that’s all put on.” 

“ Not at all. What I am anxious to know is, what 
you intend to do with me.” 

“ W ell, first of all I want you to get down on your 
knees and apologize for your conduct toward me this 
morning.” 

“ Not much ! ” I cried. 

“You are in my power.” 

“I don’t care. Go ahead and do your worst,” I 
replied recklessly, willing to suffer almost anything 
rather than apologize to such a chap as Duncan Wood- 
ward. 

Besides, what had I done to call for an apology? I 
had certainly treated him no worse than he deserved. 
He was a spoilt boy and a bully, and I would die 
rather than ga down on my knees to him. 

“You don’t know what’s in store for you,” said 
Duncan, nonplussed by my manner. 

“As I said before, I’ll risk it.” 

“ Very well. Where is the rope, boys ? ” 

“ Here you are,” answered Pultzer. “Plenty of it.” 

As he spoke he produced a stout clothes line, five or 
six yards in length. 

“ We’ll bind his hands a little tighter first,” instructed 


26 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


Duncan, “and then his legs. Be sure and make the 
knots strong, so they won’t slip. He must not escape 
us.” 

I tried to protest against these proceedings, but with 
,my hands already bound it was useless. 

In five minutes the clothes line had been passed 
around my body from head to feet, and I was almost 
as stiff as an Egyptian mummy. 

u Now catch hold, and we’ll carry him into the tool 
house,” said Duncan. “I guess after he has spent 
twenty-four hours in that place without food or water 
he’ll be mighty anxious to come to terms.” 

I was half dragged and half carried to the tool house 
and dropped upon the floor. Then the door was closed 
upon me, and I was left to my fate. 


CHAPTER IV 


THE TRAMP AGAIN 

I AM sure that all will admit that the prospect before 
me was not a particularly bright one. I was bound 
hand and foot and left without food or water. 

Yet as I lay upon the hard floor of the tool house I 
was not so much concerned about myself as I was about 
matters at Widow Canby’s house. It would be a hard- 
ship to pass the night where I was, to say nothing of 
how I might be treated when Duncan Woodward and 
his followers returned. But in the meantime, how 
would Kate fare? 

I knew that my sister would be greatly alarmed at my 
continued absence. She fully expected me to be home 
long before this. As near as I could judge it was now 
an hour or so after noon, and she would have dinner 
kept warm on the kitchen stove, expecting every minute 
to see me drive up the lane. 

Then again I was worried over the fact that the 
widow had left the house and her money in my charge. 
To be sure, the latter was locked up in her private sec- 
retary, but I felt it to be as much in my care as if it had 
27 


28 TRUE TO HIMSELF 

I , 

been placed in my shirt bosom or the bottom of my 
trunk. 

I concluded that it was my duty, then, to free myself 
as quickly as possible from the bonds which the mem- 
bers of the Model Club had placed upon me. But this 
idea was more easily conceived than carried out. 

In vain I tugged at the clothes line that held my 
arms and hands fast to my body. Duncan and the 
others had done their work well, and the only result of 
my efforts was to make the cord cut so deep into my 
flesh that several times I was ready to cry out from 
pain. 

In my attempts I tried to rise to my feet, but found 
it an impossibility, and only succeeded in bumping my 
head severely against the wall. 

There was no use in calling for help, and though I 
halloed several times I soon gave it up. I was fully 
three-quarters of a mile from any house and half that 
distance from the road, and who would be likely to hear 
me so far off ? 

The afternoon dragged slowly along, and finally the 
sun went down and the evening shadows crept up. By 
this time I was quite hungry and tremendously thirsty. 
But with nothing at hand to satisfy the one or allay the 
other I resolutely put all thoughts of both out of my 
head. 

In the old tool house there had been left several 
empty barrels, behind which was a quantity of shavings 


THE TRAMP AGAIN 


29 


that I found far more comfortable to rest upon than the 
bare floor. 

As the evening wore on I wondered if I would be able 
to sleep. There was no use worrying about matters, as 
it would do no good, so I was inclined to treat the affair 
philosophically and make the best of it. 

An hour passed, and 1 was just dropping into a light 
doze when a noise outside attracted my attention. I 
listened intently and heard a man’s footsteps. 

I was inclined to call out, and, in fact, was on the 
point of so doing, when the door of the tool house 
opened and in the dim light I recognized the form of 
the tramp moulder who earlier in the day had so impu- 
dently asked me for help. 

I was not greatly surprised to see him, for, as men- 
tioned before, the old tool house was frequently used 
by men of his stamp. He had as much right there as I 
had, and though I was chagrined to see him enter I was 
in no position to protest. 

On the contrary, I deemed it advisable to keep quiet. 
If he did not see me, so much the better. If he did, 
who could tell what indignities he might visit upon 
me ? 

So I crouched down behind the empty barrels, hardly 
daring to breathe. The man stumbled into the build- 
ing, leaving the door wide open. 

By his manner I was certain that he had been drink- 
ing heavily, and his rambling soliloquy proved it. 


30 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“ The same old shebang,” he mumbled to himself, as 
he swayed around in the middle of the floor, “ the same 
old shebang where Aaron Woodward and I parted 
company four years ago. He’s took care of his money, 
and I’ve gone to the dogs,” and he gave a yawn and sat 
down on top of a barrel. 

I was thoroughly surprised at his words. Was it 
possible that this seedy-looking individual had once 
been intimate with Duncan W oodward’s father ? It 
hardly seemed reasonable. I made a rapid calculation 
and concluded that the meeting must have had some- 
thing to do with the proposed railroad in which I knew 
Mr. Woodward had held an interest. Perhaps this 
tramp had once been a prosperous contractor. 

“ Great times them were. Plenty of money and 
nothing to do,” continued the man. “Wonder if any 
one in Darby ville would recognize — hold up, Stumpy, 
you mustn’t repeat that name too often or you’ll be men- 
tioning it in public when it ain’t no interest for you to 
do it. Stumpy, John Stumpy, is good enough for the 
likes of you.” 

And with great deliberation Mr. John Stumpy 
brought forth a short clay pipe which he proceeded to 
fill and light with evident satisfaction. 

During the brief period of lighting up I caught a 
good glance at his face, and fancied that I saw beneath 
the surface of dirt and dissipation a look of shrewdness 
and intelligence. Evidently he was one of the unfor- 


THE TRAMP AGAIN 


31 


tunates who allowed drink to make off with their 
brains. 

Mr. John Stumpy puffed on in silence for several 
minutes. I wondered what he intended to do, and was 
not prepared for the surprises that were to follow. 

“ Times are changed and no mistake,” he went on. 
“ Here I am, down at the bottom, Nick Weaver dead, 
Woodward a rich man, and Carson Strong in jail. 
Humph ! but times do change ! ” 

Carson Strong ! My heart gave a bound. This 
man was speaking of my father. What did it mean ? 
What did the tramp know of the events of the past? 
As I lay behind the barrels, I earnestly hoped he would 
go on with his talk. I had heard just enough to arouse 
my curiosity. 

I was certain that I had never, until that day, seen 
the man. What, then, could he have in common with 
my father ? 

Instinctively I connected the man with the cause of 
my father’s imprisonment — I will not say downfall, 
because I firmly believed him innocent. Why I should 
do so I cannot to this day explain, but from the instant 
he mentioned my parent’s name the man was firmly 
fixed in my memory. 

In a few moments Mr. John Stumpy had puffed his 
pipe out, leaving the place filled with a heavy and vile 
smoke which gave me all I could do to keep from cough- 
ing. Then he slowly knocked the ashes from the bowl 
and restored the pipe to his pocket. 


32 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


44 Now I reckon I’m in pretty good trim to go ahead,” 
he muttered as he arose. 44 No use of talking ; there 
ain’t anything like a good puff to steady a man’s nerves. 
Was a time when I didn’t need it, but them times are 
gone, and the least little job on hand upsets me. 
Wonder how much that old woman left behind.” 

I nearly uttered an ejaculation of astonishment. Was 
this man speaking of Mrs. Canby ? What was the job 
that he contemplated ? 

Clearly there could be but one answer to that ques- 
tion. He knew the widow had gone away, and in her 
absence he contemplated robbing her house. Perhaps 
he had overheard her make mention of the money locked 
up in her desk, and the temptation to obtain possession 
of it was too strong to resist. 

44 I’ll have to get rid of that boy and the dog, I sup- 
pose,” he went on. 44 If it wasn’t for the noise I’d shoot 
the dog ; but it won’t do to arouse the neighborhood. 
As for the lad, I reckon the sight of a pistol will scare 
him to death.” 

I was not so sure of that, and I grated my teeth at 
the thought of my present helplessness Had I been 
free, I am sure I could have escaped easily, and perhaps 
have had the tramp arrested. 

It was an alarming prospect. Kate was the only 
occupant of the house, and the nearest neighbor lived a 
full five hundred feet away. If attacked in the middle 
of the night, what would my sister do ? 


THE TEAMP AGAIN 


33 


For a moment I felt like exposing myself, but then I 
reflected that such a course would not liberate me, and 
he would know that he had nothing to fear from me at 
the house, whereas, if I kept quiet, he might, by some 
lucky incident, be kept at bay. 

So I lay .still, wondering when he would start on his 
criminal quest. 

“ Now, one more drink and then I’ll be off,” he con- 
tinued, and, producing a bottle, he took a deep draught. 
“ Ha ! That’s the stuff to brace a man’s nerves ! But 
you mustn’t drink too much, John Stumpy, or you’ll be 
no good at all. If you’d only let liquor alone you 
might be as rich as Aaron Woodward, remember that.” 
He gave something like a sigh. “ Oh, well ; let it 
pass. I’ll get the tools and be on the way. The money 
in my pocket, I’ll take the first train in the morn- 
ing for the West.” He paused a moment. “ But no ; 
I won’t go until I’ve seen Woodward. He owes me a 
little on the old score, and I’ll not go until he has settled 
up.” 

There was an interval of silence, during which Stumpy 
must have been feeling around in his pockets for a 
match; for a moment later there were several slight 
scratches, and then a tiny flame lit up the interior of 
the tool house. 

“ Let’s see, where did I leave them tools ? Ah, yes ; 
I remember now. Behind those barrels.” 

And Stumpy moved over to where I was in hiding. 


CHAPTER V 


FOLLOWING JOHN STUMPY 

I expected to be discovered. I could not see how 
it could possibly be avoided. John Stumpy was but a 
few feet away. In a second more he would be in full 
sight of me. 

What the outcome of the discovery would be I could 
not imagine. I was at the man’s mercy, and I was 
inclined to think that our interview of the morning 
would not tend to soften his feelings toward me. 

But at that instant a small, yet extremely lucky inci- 
dent occurred. A draught of wind came in at the 
partly open door and blew out the match, leaving the 
place in darkness. 

“ Confound the luck ! ” ejaculated John Stumpy, in 
high irritation. “There goes the light, and it’s the 
last match I’ve got, too.” 

This bit of information was gratifying to me, and, 
without making any noise, I rolled back into the corner 
as far as possible. 

“ Well, I’ll have to find them tools in the dark, that’s 
all.” He groped around for several seconds, during 
34 


FOLLOWING JOHN STUMPY 


35 


which I held my breath. “ Ah, here they are, just as I 
left ’em last night. Reckon no one visits this shanty, 
and maybe it will be a good place to bring the booty, 
especially if I happen to be closely pushed.” 

I sincerely hoped that he would be closely pushed, 
and in fact so closely pushed that he would have no 
booty to bring. But if he did succeed in his nefarious 
plans, I was glad that I would know where to look for 
him. 

No sooner had the man found the bag of tools, — which 
was nothing more nor less than a burglar’s kit, — than 
he quitted the place, and I was left to my own reflections. 

My thoughts alarmed me. Beyond a doubt John 
Stumpy intended to rob the Widow Canby’s house. 
The only one at home was Kate, and I groaned as I 
thought of the alarm and terror that she might be called 
upon to suffer. As it was, I was sure she was worried 
about my continued absence. In my anguish I strove 
with all my might to burst asunder the bonds that held 
me. At the end of five minutes’ struggle I remained 
as securely tied as ever. 

What was to be done ? It was a puzzling, but perti- 
nent question. By hook or by crook I must get free. 
At great risk of hurting my head I rolled to the door 
of the tool house, which Stumpy had left wide open. 
Outside, the stars were shining brightly, and in the south- 
west the pale crescent of the new moon was falling behind 
the tree-tops, casting ghostly shadows that would have 


36 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


made a timid person shiver. But as the reader may by 
this time know, I was not of a timid nature, and I gave 
the shadows scant attention until a sudden movement 
among the trees attracted my notice. It was the figure 
of some person coming rapidly toward me. 

At first I judged it must be Stumpy returning, and I 
was on the point of rolling back to my hiding-place 
when I saw that the newcomer was a boy. 

When he reached the edge of the clearing he paused, 
and approached slowly. 

“ Roger Strong ! ” he called out. I instantly recog- 
nized the voice of Dick Blair, one of the youngest mem - 
bers of the Models, who, during my capture, had had 
little to say or do. He was the son of a wealthy farmer 
who lived but a short distance down the road from the 
Widow Canby’s place. 

I had always considered Dick a pretty good chap, 
and had been disagreeably surprised to see him in com- 
pany with Duncan Woodward’s crowd. How Duncan 
had ever taken up with him I could not imagine, except 
it might have been on account of the money Dick’s father 
allowed him to have. 

“ Roger Strong ! ” he repeated. “ Are you still 
here?” 

I could not imagine what had brought him to this 
place at such an hour of the night. Yet I answered 
at once. 


u Yes, I am, Dick Blair.” 


FOLLOWING JOHN STUMPY 


87 


“ I thought maybe you had managed to get away,” 
he continued, as he came closer. 

“No; you fellows did your work pretty well,” I 
replied as lightly as I could, for I did not want to show 
the white feather. ' 

“ Precious little I had to do with it,” he went on, as 
he struck a match and lit a lantern that he carried. 

“You were with the crowd.” 

“ I know it ; but I wouldn’t have been if I’d known 
what they were up to. I hope you will not think too 
badly of me, Roger.” 

“I thought it was strange you would go into any- 
thing of this kind, Dick. What brings you back 
to-night ? ” 

“I am ashamed of the whole thing,” he answered 
earnestly, “and I came to release you — that is, on 
certain conditions.” 

My heart gave a bound. “What conditions, Dick? ” 

“ I want you to promise that you won’t tell who set 
you free,” he explained. “ If Dune or the rest heard 
of it, they would never forgive me.” 

“What of it, Dick? Their opinion isn’t worth any- 
thing.” 

“I know it — now. But they could tell mighty mean 
stories about me if they wanted to.” And Dick Blair 
turned away and shuffled his foot on the ground to hide 
his shame. 

“Don’t mind them, Dick. If they start any bad 


38 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


report about you, do as I’m doing with the stain on oar 
name — live it down.” 

“ I’ll try it. But you’ll promise, won’t you ? ” 

“ If you wish it, yes.” 

“ All right ; I know I can trust you,” said Dick. 

Producing his pocket knife, he quickly cut the cords 
that hound me. Somewhat stiff from the position in 
which I had been forced to remain, I rose slowly to my 
feet. 

“ I don’t know whether to thank you or not for what 
you’ve done for me, Dick,” I began. “ But I appreciate 
your actions.” 

“ I don’t deserve any thanks. It was a mean trick, 
and I guess legally I was as guilty as any one. Just 
keep quiet about it and don’t think too hard of me.” 

“I’ll do both,” I responded quickly. 

“ It’s a mighty lonely place to spend the night in,” 
he went on. “I’m no coward, but I wouldn’t care to 
do it, all alone.” 

“ I haven’t been alone.” 

“ No.” And Dick looked intensely surprised. “ Who 
has been here ? ” 

I hesitated. Should I tell him ? 

“ A tramp,” I began. 

“ Why didn’t he untie you ? ” 

“ He didn’t see me.” 

“ Oh, I suppose you hid away. What did he want, I 
wonder ? ” 


FOLLOWING JOHN STUMPY 


39 


“He was after some tools.” 

“ Tools ! There are none here, any more.” 

“But there were.” 

“ What kind of tools ? ” 

I hesitated again. Should I tell Dick the secret? 
Perhaps he might give me some timely assistance. 

“ Will you promise to keep silent if I tell ? ” 

“ Why, what do you mean, Roger ? ” 

“It is very important.” 

“All right. Fire away.” 

“He came after some burglar’s tools.” 

Dick stepped back in astonishment. “You surely 
don’t mean it ! ” he gasped. “ Who was he going to 
rob ? ” 

“The widow’s house. He knows she is away and 
has left considerable money in her desk.” 

And in a rapid manner I told Dick of what I had 
overheard, omitting the mentioning of my father’s and 
Mr. Woodward’s names. Of course he was tremen- 
dously excited. What healthy country boy would not 
be? 

“ What are you going to do about it ? ” he questioned. 

“Now I’m free I’m going to catch the fellow,” I 
returned decidedly. “He shall not rob Mrs. Canby’s 
house if I can help it.” 

“ Aren’t you afraid ? ” 

“ I intend to be cautious.' 

“He may have a pistol.” 


40 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“The widow left one in the house. Maybe I can 
secure it. Then we’ll be on an equal footing.” 

“ I’ve got a pistol, Roger.” 

“ You ! ” 

“Yes, the Models all carry them. Dune always 
insisted that it was the proper thing.” 

As Dick spoke, he produced a highly polished, nickle- 
plated five-shooter. 

“ It looks like a good one,” I said, after examining it. 
“ Is it loaded? ” 

“ Oh, yes ; and I’ve got a box of cartridges in my 
pocket besides.” 

“ Lend it to me, Dick.” 

“ If you don’t mind I’ll — I’ll go along with you, 
Roger,” he returned. “ You won’t find me such a 
terrible coward.” 

“All right. But we must hurry. That fellow has 
got a good start, and he may even now be in the house.” 

“Hardly. He’ll want to take a look around first.” 

Nevertheless, we lost no time in getting away from 
the tool house. We walked side by side, I with the 
pistol in the pocket of my jacket, and Dick with the 
lantern held aloft, that we might see to make rapid 
progress over the unaccustomed road. 

It was a good walk to the widow’s, and once Dick 
stumbled down in a heap, while the lantern rolled sev- 
eral yards away. But he picked himself up without 
grumbling and went along faster than ever. 


FOLLOWING JOHN STUMPY 


41 


“ if r m not mistaken, I saw that tramp down at the 
depot this morning,” said he, as we drew near to the 
main road. “ He was hanging around, and I thought 
he looked like a suspicious character.” 

“ Did you see him yesterday ? ” 

“ No.” 

“ Did you ever hear of him before ? ” 

“ I guess not. He was near the baggage room when 
I saw him. Then Mr. Woodward came up to see about 
a trunk, and the tramp made right off.” 

I was interested. John Stumpy had intimated that 
he intended to have an interview with Duncan Wood- 
ward’s father, and if this was so, why had he not taken 
advantage of the opportunity thus offered ? 

I could arrive at but one conclusion. The tramp 
wished their meeting to be a strictly private one. 
He did not care to be seen in Mr. Woodward’s pres- 
ence, or else the wealthy merchant would not tolerate 
such a thing. 

If the meeting was to be of a private nature, it would 
no doubt be of importance. Had my father’s name not 
been mentioned I would not have cared ; but as it was, 
I was deeply interested. 

Perhaps it would be better to merely scare the fellow 
off. If he was captured, all chance of finding out his 
secrets might be lost. 

By this time the reader may be aware that I thought 
John Stumpy’s secrets important. Such was a fact. 


42 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


Try as hard as I was able, I could not but imagine that 
they concerned my father and his alleged downfall. 

In five minutes Dick and I came within sight of 
Widow Canby’s house. There was a light burning in 
the kitchen and another in the dining-room. 

“ Everything seems to be all right,” said Dick, as we 
stood near a corner of the front fence. “ I guess the 
fellow hasn’t put in an appearance yet.” 

“ I don’t know. See ! the side porch door is open. 
We generally keep it closed, and Kate would certainly 
have it shut if she was alone.” 

“ What do you intend to do? Go into the house ? ” 

“ Guess we had better. I’d like to know where that 
fellow is,” I replied. “ Likely as not he is prowling 
about here somewhere. If we can only catch sight of 
him, we can — Hark ! ” 

As I uttered the last word, a shrill cry reached our 
ears. It was Kate’s voice ; and with my heart jumping 
wildly I made a dash for the house, with Dick Blair 
following me. 


CHAPTER VI 


A STRANGE ENVELOPE 

I was sure that my sister’s cry could mean but one 
thing — that the tramp had made a raid on the house. 
I was thoroughly alarmed, and ran with all possible 
speed in the direction of the dining-room, from whence 
the sound proceeded. 

As I tore across the lawn, regardless of the bed of 
flowers which was Mrs. Canby’s pride, Kate’s cry was 
repeated, this time in a more intense tone. An instant 
later I dashed across the porch and into the room 
through the door that, as I have said, stood wide open. 

I found my sister standing in the middle of the floor, 
holding in her hand a heavy umbrella with which she 
had evidently been defending herself. She was pale, 
and trembled from head to foot. 

“What is it, Kate?” I exclaimed. “Where is the 
fellow ? ” 

“ Oh, Roger ! ” she gasped. “ I’m so glad you’ve 
come. A tramp was here — he robbed — robbed the 
desk — the window — ” 

She pointed to the open window on the opposite side 
43 


44 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


of the room. Then her breast heaved, the umbrella 
slipped from her grasp, and she sank into a chair. 

44 Are you hurt ? ” I cried anxiously. 

44 No, no — but the money — it is gone! What will 
Mrs. Canby say?” 

And overcome with the dreadful thought, my sister 
fainted dead away. 

As for myself I felt sick at heart. John Stumpy had 
been there — the widow’s money had been stolen. What 
could be done ? 

Meanwhile, Dick Blair had come in. His common 
sense told him what had happened, and he set to work 
to restore my sister to consciousness. 

44 Will you stay here with Kate? ” I asked. 

44 Certainly,” he returned promptly. 44 But where 
are you going ? After that tramp ? ” 

44 Yes.” 

44 Be careful, for he may be a desperate character.” 

44 I’m not afraid of him. I’m going to get that money 
back or know the reason why,” was my determined 
reply; and I meant every word I said. 

To my mind it was absolutely necessary that I 
recover the stolen property. It would have been bad 
enough to have had it taken when the Widow Canby 
was at home, but it had been stolen when left in my 
charge, and that was enough to make me turn Darby- 
ville district up side down before letting the matter 
drop. 


A STRANGE ENVELOPE 


45 


Besides, there was still another important factor in the 
case. I knew well enough that if the money was not re- 
covered, there would be plenty of people mean enough to 
intimate that I had had something to do with its disap- 
pearance. The Strong honor was considered low by 
many, and they would not hesitate to declare that I 
was only following in my father’s footsteps. 

To a person already suffering under an unjust accusa- 
tion such an intimation is doubly stinging, and when I 
told Dick that I was not afraid of Mr. John Stumpy, I 
meant that I would rather face the robber now than the 
Darbyville people later on. 

“ I want to take the pistol,” I added. 

“ All right. There is the box of extra cartridges. 
Do you want the lantern ? ” 

“Yes; I may want to use it before I return. I’ll 
blow it out now.” 

Our conversation had lasted but a few seconds, and 
an instant after I was on my way, the lantern on my 
left arm and the pistol in my right hand. 

“ Take good care of Kate,” I called back as I passed 
out. 

“ I will,” replied Dick. “ Don’t stay away too long, 
if you don’t find the fellow.” 

I passed around to the other side of the garden, where 
an open gateway led to the pear orchard. I felt pretty 
certain that John Stumpy had pursued this course, and 
I entered the orchard on a run. 


46 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


The thief, I reckoned, was not over five minutes 
ahead of me. To be sure, he could easily hide, but it 
was not likely that he would care to remain in the 
neighborhood, unless it was really necessary for him 
to see Mr. Aaron Woodward. 

When I got well into the orchard, where it was darker 
than in the garden, I listened intently, hoping that I 
might hear some sound that would guide me. 

But all was silent. Occasionally a night bird flut- 
tered through the trees and a frog gave a dismal croak, 
but otherwise not a sound broke the stillness. 

I continued on my way toward the road, and reaching 
the fence, paused again. 

Had the thief jumped over ? If so, which way had 
he gone, up, down, or into the woods beyond? It was 
a perplexing question. Perhaps if I had been in a story 
book I might have found some clew to direct me. But 
I was not that kind of a hero. I was only an every- 
day boy, and consequently no clew presented itself. 

I stood by the fence for several minutes, my eyes and 
ears on the alert to catch anything worthy of notice. I 
judged it was near midnight, and hardly had I thought 
of the matter before the distant town bells tolled the 
hour of twelve. 

As the echo of the last stroke died away, two figures 
came slowly up the road. As they drew nearer, I recog- 
nized Moran and Pultzer, the two Models members 
who had assisted at my capture. 


A STRANGE ENVELOPE 


47 


I was astonished at their appearance. What on earth 
could they be doing out at this time of night? 

As they drew near I thought for many reasons that 
it would not be advisable to show myself, and I stepped 
behind a tree. 

“I don’t care what you say,” said Pultzer, “Dune 
was half scared to death when we came away.” 

“ I guess he didn’t think what a serious matter it 
was when he asked us to go into it,” returned Moran. 
“It’s the worst affair I ever got into.” 

“ Ditto myself,” responded Pultzer. 

“And if we get out without being caught, you’ll 
never find me in another such,” continued the other 
earnestly. 

“ I wonder what Dune’s father will say when he hears 
of it?” 

“And all the rest of the Darbyville people? Of 
course they’ve got to lay it to some one.” 

I surmised that they must be speaking of what they 
had done to me. I never dreamed that they were dis- 
cussing a subject much more serious. 

“ I’m glad Dick Blair wasn’t along to-night,” went 
on Moran. “ Dick is not to be trusted any more. He 
kicked awfully at the idea of tying up Strong this 
noon.” 

I was gratified to hear this bit of news. I liked 
Dick in many respects, and now I was almost ready 
to look upon him as a friend. 


48 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“ Strong didn’t give in quite as much as Dune thought 
he would. Hang it, if I didn’t admire his grit.” 

“So did I. Wonder how he’s getting along in the 
old tool house. We must release him first thing in the 
morning.” 

“No need of doing that, gentlemen,” I put in, step- 
ping out from behind the tree. “ I am — ” 

But it would have been useless for me to say more, 
as no one would have heard me. 

At the first sound of my voice both of the Models had 
started in alarm, and then, led by Pultzer, they dashed 
up the road as fast as their feet could carry them. 

At first I was amazed at their actions, and then, as 
the ridiculousness of the situation presented itself, I 
smiled. “ A guilty conscience needeth no accuser,” it is 
said, and this truth was verified to the letter. 

Yet I was sorry that I had not had a chance to speak 
to them. I wanted to question them in regard to the 
thief. Perhaps they had seen him, and if so, I did not 
want to miss my chance of getting upon his track. 

Jumping over the fence, I walked slowly down the 
road, but not in hopes of meeting John Stumpy. If he 
was anywhere near, the approach of the two boys had 
certainly driven him into hiding. 

Suddenly I thought of the tool house. The tramp 
had spoken of returning to the place. He evidently 
knew the road. I determined to go to the spot and 
make a search at once. 


A STRANGE ENVELOPE 


49 


It was no easy matter to find my way back to the 
tool house, and at the risk of being seen I lit the 
lantern. 

As I walked along I wondered how my sister and 
Dick were faring. No doubt Kate had been much sur- 
prised to see who was with her on her recovery, and I 
sincerely hoped that the shock Stumpy had given her 
would not have any evil effects. She was a sensitive 
girl, and such happenings were calculated to try her 
nerves severely. 

At length I came wuthin sight of the clearing. Here 
I hesitated for an instant, and then, pistol in hand, 
approached the tool house boldly. 

The door was still open, and I entered, only to find 
the place empty. 

With a sigh I realized that my journey thither was a 
useless one. Nothing remained but to go back to the 
road, and I was about to leave again when the rays of 
the lantern fell upon a white object lying on the floor. 

I picked it up. It was a common square envelope. 
Thinking it contained a letter I turned it over to read 
the address. Judge of my astonishment when I read 
the following : — 

Dying Statement of Nicholas Weaver Concerning the Forgeries 
for which Carson Strong Was Sent to State’s Prison. 


CHAPTER VII 


A WAR OF WORDS 

No words of mine can express the feeling that came 
oyer me as I read the superscription written on the 
envelope I had picked up in the old tool house. 

Was it possible that this envelope contained the 
solution of the mystery that had taken away our good 
name and sent my father to prison ? The very thought 
made me tremble. 

The packet was not a thick one. In fact, it was so 
thin that for an instant I imagined the envelope was 
empty. But a hasty examination proved my fears 
groundless. 

In nervous excitement I put the lantern down on the 
top of a barrel, and then drew from the envelope the 
single sheet of foolscap that it contained. A glance 
showed me that the pages were closely written in a 
cramped hand extremely difficult to read. 

For the moment I forgot everything else — forgot 
that the Widow Canby’s house had been robbed and 
that I was on the track of the robber — and drawing 
close to the feeble light the lantern afforded, strove 
50 




A WAR OF WORDS 


51 


with straining eyes and palpitating heart to decipher 
the contents of the written pages. 

“ I, Nicholas Weaver, being on the point of death from pneu- 
monia, do make this my last statement, which I hereby swear is 
true in every particular.” 

This was the beginning of the document which I 
hoped would in some way free my father’s character 
from the stain that now rested on it. 

Exactly who Nicholas Weaver was I did not know, 
though it ran in my mind that I had heard this name 
mentioned by my father during the trial. 

Beyond the opening paragraph I have quoted the 
handwriting was almost illegible, and in the dim light 
it was only here and there that I could pick out such 
words as “ bank,” “ assumed,” “ risk,” “ name,” and so 
forth, which gave but an inkling of the real contents of 
the precious document. 

“ It’s too bad,” was my thought. “ I’d give all I 
possess to be able to read this right off, word for 
word.” 

Hardly had the reflection crossed my mind when a 
noise outside startled me. I had just time enough to 
thrust the paper into my pocket when the door was 
swung open and the tramp appeared. 

He was evidently as much surprised as I was, for 
he stopped short in amazement, while the short pipe 
he carried between his lips fell unnoticed to the floor. 


52 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


I rightly conjectured he had not noticed the light of 
the lantern and fully believed the tool house tenantless. 

44 You here ! ” he cried. 

44 It looks like it, doesn’t it ? ” was all I could find to 
reply, and as I spoke my hand sought the pistol I 
carried. 

44 What brought you here ? ” he demanded roughly. 

“ I came after you,” I returned as coolly as I could ; 
and by this time I had the pistol where it could be 
brought into instant use. 

44 What do you want of me ? ” 

44 1 want you to hand over the money you stole awhile 
ago.” 

“What are you talking about? I never stole any 
money.” 

“You did. You broke into the Widow Canby’s 
house less than an hour ago. Come, hand over that 
money.” 

The fellow gave a coarse laugh. 44 Ha ! ha ! do 
you think I’m to be bluffed by a boy ? Get home with 
you, before I hammer you for calling me a thief.” 

44 That’s just what you are, and I don’t intend to go 
until you hand over the money, John Stumpy,” I 
returned decidedly. 

“ Ha ! you know my name ? ” 

I bit my lip. I was sorry for the slip I had made. 
But I put on a bold front. “I know what you are 
called,” I replied. 


A WAR OF WORDS 


53 


“ What I am called ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“ What do yon mean ? Come, out with it.” 

“ I will when I please. In the meantime hand over 
that money.” 

“ You talk like a fool ! ” he cried. 

“Never mind. You’ll find I won’t act like one.” 

“ What do you know about me ? ” he went on curi- 
ously, believing, no doubt, that he was perfectly safe 
from attack. 

“ I know more than you think. I know you are a 
burglar, and may be worse.” 

“I’ll kill you ! ” he cried, rushing forward. 

“ Stand where you are ! ” I returned, pulling out the 
pistol. “ Don’t stir a step.” 

He did not see the weapon until he was fairly upon 
me. The glint of the nickeled steel made him shiver. 

“ Don’t shoot ! ” he cried in sudden terror, that 
showed he was a coward at heart. “Don’t — don’t 
shoot.” 

“ I won’t if you do as I tell you.” 

“ Do what ? ” 

“ Give up the widow’s money.” 

“ See here, young fellow, you’ve made a mistake. 
I never was near the widow’s house, ’cepting this 
morning.” 

“I know better. You just broke open her desk and 
stole over two hundred dollars.” 


54 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“It’s a mistake. Put down the pistol and I’ll tell 
you all about it.” 

“I’m not such a fool, Mr. John Stumpy, or whatever 
your name is,” was my decided reply. 

The tone of my voice disconcerted the man, for he 
paused as if not knowing what to say next. 

“ Say, young feller, do you want to make some 
money ? ” he asked suddenly, after a short pause. 

The change in his manner surprised me. 

“How?” I asked, although I knew about what was 
coming. 

“ I’ve got nearly three hundred dollars in cash with 
me. I’ll give you fifty of it if you’ll go home and say 
you couldn’t find me.” 

“ Thank you ; I’m not doing business that way,” I 
rejoined coldly. 

“ Fifty dollars ain’t to be sneezed at,” he went on 
insinuatingly. 

“ I wouldn’t care if you offered me fifty thousand,” I 
cried sharply. “ I’m no thief.” 

“ Humph ; don’t you suppose I know who you are ? ” 
he went on. “You’re the son of a thief. Do you 
hear that ? — the son of a thief ! What right have you 
got to set yourself up to be any better than your father 
was afore you ? ” 

“ Take care ! ” I cried, my blood fairly boiling as I 
spoke. He saw his mistake. 

“I didn’t mean no harm, partner. But what’s the 
use of being high toned when it don’t pay ? ” 


A WAR OF WORDS 


55 


“ It always pays to be honest,” I said firmly. 

“ There are those who don’t think so any more than 
I,” he replied. 

“My father never was a thief. They may say all 
they please, I will always think him innocent.” 

“ Humph ! ” 

“If it hadn’t been for men like you and Nicholas 
Weaver, my father would never be in prison.” 

The words were out before I knew it. They were 
most injudicious ones. 

“What do you mean?” gasped the man. “What 
do you know about Nick Weaver ? ” 

“ More than you imagine. When he died he made a 
confession — ” 

“It’s false. Nick Weaver wasn’t in his right mind 
when he died, anyhow.” 

“ Perhaps he was.” 

“ What you — ” began the man. Then he paused and 
began a rapid search in his pockets. “ You’ve got that 
paper,” he cried hoarsely. “ Give it up,” and as he 
spoke, John Stumpy took a threatening step toward 
me. 

“ Stand back ! ” and I raised the pistol. 

I was trembling in every limb, but I actually believe 
I would have fired it if he had rushed upon me. 

“I won’t. Give up that paper.” 

“Never. I’ll die first.” 

And die I would. His earnestness convinced me of 


56 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


the letter’s worth. If it contained that which could 
clear my father’s name, only death would be the means 
of parting me from it. 

“ Give it up, I say ! Do you think I’m to be defeated 
by a boy ? ” 

“ Stand back ! ” 

I raised the pistol on a level with his head. As I 
did so, he made a dash forward and caught up a 
stick which was lying near. 

“ I’ll fix you ! ” he roared, and swinging the billet 
over his head, he brought it down with all his force on 
my arm, causing the pistol to fly from my hand into a 
corner beyond. 

“Now we’ll see who’s master here,” he cried exult- 
ingly. “You’re a smart boy, but you don’t know 
everything ! ” Rushing over to the corner, he secured 
the pistol and aimed it at me. “Now, we’ll settle 
this matter according to my notions,” he went on 
triumphantly. 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE STRUGGLE 

I WAS deeply chagrined at the unexpected turn 
affairs had taken, and I felt decidedly uncomfortable as 
John Stumpy levelled the weapon at my head. I could 
readily see that the battle of words was at an end. 
Action was now the order of the day. I wondered 
what the fellow would do next; but I was not kept 
long in suspense. 

“Now, it’s my turn, young fellow,” he remarked, 
with a shrewd grin, as I fell back. 

“ Well, what do you want?” I asked, as coolly as I 
could, recognizing the fact that nothing was to be 
gained by “stirring him up.” 

“ You’ll see fast enough. In the first place, hand 
over that paper.” 

I was silent. I did not intend to tell a falsehood by 
saying I did not have it, nor did I intend to give it up 
if it could possibly be avoided. 

“Did you hear what I said?” continued Stumpy, 
after a pause. 

“I thought you said the paper wasn’t valuable,” I 
returned, more to gain time than anything else. 

67 


58 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“Neither it ain’t, but, just the same, I want it. 
Come, hand it over.” 

He was getting ugly now, and no mistake. What 
was to be done ? 

As I have mentioned before, it would have been use- 
less to call for help, as no one would have heard the 
calls. 

Suddenly the thought struck me to try a bit of 
deception. I put my hand in my pocket and drew out 
the empty envelope. 

“ Is that what you want ? ” I asked, holding it up. 

“Keckon it is,” he returned eagerly. “ Just toss it 
over.” 

Somewhat disappointed that he did not approach me 
and thus give me a chance of attacking him, I did as 
requested. It fell at his feet, and he was not long in 
transferring it to his pocket. 

“ Next time don’t try to walk over a man like me,” 
he said sharply. “ I know a thing or two, and I’m not 
to be downed by a boy.” 

“ Are you satisfied ? ” I asked calmly, though secretly 
exultant that he had not discovered my trick. 

“Not yet. You followed me when you had no busi- 
ness to, and now you’ve got to take the consequences.” 

“ What are you going to do ? ” 

“ You’ll see soon enough. I ain’t the one to make 
many mistakes. Years ago I made a few, but I ain’t 
making no more.” 


THE STRUGGLE 


59 


“ Yon knew my father quite well, didn’t you ? ” I 
inquired, in deep curiosity. 

“ As the old saying goes, 4 Ask me no questions and 
I’ll tell you no lies.’ Maybe I didn’t; maybe I did.” 

“ I know you did.” 

“ Well, what of it ? So did lots of other people.” 

“ But not quite as well as you and Nicholas Weaver 
and Mr. Aaron Woodward,” I continued, determined 
to learn all I could. 

“ Ha ! What do you know of them ? ” He scowled 
at me. “ Reckon you’ve been reading that paper of 
Nick’s putty closely. I was a fool for not tearing it up 
long ago.” 

“Why did you keep it — to deliver it to Mr. 
Wentworth ? ” 

It was a bold stroke and it told. Stumpy grew pale 
in spite of the dirt that covered his face, and the hand 
that held the pistol trembled. 

“ Say, young fellow, you know too much, you do. I 
suppose you read that paper clear through, did you? ” 

“ As you say : Maybe I didn’t ; maybe I did.” 

“Perhaps you wasn’t careful of it. Maybe I’d 
better examine it,” he added. 

My heart sank within me. In another moment the 
deception I had practised would be known — and 
then ? 

He fumbled in his pocket and drew forth the 
envelope. He could not extract the letter he sup- 


60 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


posed it contained with one hand very well, and so 
lowered the pistol for a moment. 

This was my chance. Unarmed I was evidently in 
his power. If I could only escape from the tool house ! 

The door still stood partly open, and the darkness of 
night — for the moon had gone down — was beyond. 
A dash and I would be outside. Still the tramp stood 
between me and liberty. Should I attack him or 
endeavor to slip to one side ? 

I had but an instant to think; another, and it would be 
too late. John Stumpy was fumbling in the envelope. 
His eyes were searching for the precious document. 

With a single bound I sprang against him, knocking 
him completely off his feet. Then I made another 
jump for the door. 

But he was too quick for me. Dropping the enve- 
lope and the pistol, he caught me by the foot, and in an 
instant both of us were rolling on the floor. 

It was an unequal struggle. Strong as I was for a 
boy of my age, I was no match for this burly man. 
Turn and twist all I could, he held me in his grip 
while he heaped loud imprecations upon my head. 

In our movements on the floor we came in contact 
with the lantern and upset it, smashing the frame as 
well as the glass. 

For a moment darkness reigned. Then a tiny light 
from the corner lit up the place. The flames had 
caught the shavings. 


THE STRUGGLE 


61 


“ The place is on fire ! ” I cried in horror. 

“Yes, and yon did it,” replied the tramp. 

“ It was you ! ” I returned stoutly, and, as a matter 
of fact, it may be as well to state that John Stumpy’s 
foot had caused the accident. 

“Not much; it was your fault, and you’ve got to 
take the blame.” 

As the rascal spoke, he caught me by the throat, 
squeezing it so tightly that I was in great danger of 
being choked to death. 

“Let — let up ! ” I gasped. 

The choking continued. My head began to grow 
dizzy, and strange lights danced before my eyes. I 
protested against this proceeding as vigorously as 
I could by kicking the man sharply and rapidly. 

But Stumpy now meant to do me real injury. He 
realized that I knew too much for his future welfare. 
In fact, he, no doubt, imagined I knew far more than I 
really did. If I was out of the way for all time so 
much the better for him. 

“Take that ! ” he suddenly cried, and springing up 
he brought his heel down with great force on my head. 

I cannot describe the sensation that followed. It 
was as if a sharp, blinding pain had stung me to the 
very heart. Then my senses forsook me. 

How long I lay in a comatose state I do not know. 
Certainly it could not have been a very long time — 
probably not over five or six minutes. 


62 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


In the meantime the fire rapidly spread, igniting the 
barrels that were stored in the tool house, and climbing 
up the walls of the building to the roof. 

When I recovered my senses, my face was fairly 
scorched, and no sooner had I opened my eyes than 
they were blinded by smoke and flame. 

By instinct rather than reason I staggered to my 
feet. I was so weak I could hardly stand, and 
my head spun around like a top. Where was the 
door ? 

I tottered to one side and felt around. There was 
the window tightly closed. The door I knew was 
opposite I 

Reeling, I made my way through the smoke that now 
seemed to fill my lungs, to where I knew the door to 
be. Oh, horror ! it was closed and secured ! 

“ Heaven help me now I ” burst from my parched 
lips. “ Am I to be roasted alive ? ” 

With all my remaining strength I threw myself 
against the door. Once, and again, and still it did not 
budge. 

“ Help ! help ! ” I called at the top of my voice. 

No answer came to my cry. The fire behind me 
became hotter and hotter. The roof had now caught, 
and the sparks fell down upon me in a perfect shower. 

Another moment and it would be all over. With a 
brief prayer to God for help in my dire need, I attacked 
the door for the last time. 


THE STRUGGLE 


63 


At first it did not~budge. Then there was a creak- 
ing, a sharp crack, and at last it flew wide open. 

Oh, how grateful was the breath of fresh air that 
struck me ! I stumbled out into the clearing and 
opened wide my throat to take in the pure draught. 

Then for the first time I realized how nearly I had 
been overcome. I could no longer stand, and swooning, 
sank in a heap to the ground. 


CHAPTER IX 


NEW TROUBLE 

“He’s alive, boys.” 

These were the words that greeted my ears on 
recovering my senses. I opened my eyes and saw that 
I was surrounded by a number of boys and men. 

“ How did you come here ? ” asked Henry Morse, a 
sturdy farmer who lived in the neighborhood. 

I was too much confused to make any intelligent 
reply. Rising to a sitting position, I gazed around. 

The tool house had burned to the ground, there being 
no means at hand to extinguish the fire. The glare of 
the conflagration had called out several dozens of people 
from Darbyville and the vicinity, several of whom had 
stumbled upon me as I lay in the clearing. 

“ What’s the matter, Roger ? ” asked Larry Simpson, 
a young man who kept a bookstore in the town. 

“ The matter is that I nearly lost my life in that 
fire,” I replied. 

“ How did you come here ? ” 

As briefly as I could I related my story, leaving out 
all references to my personal affairs and the finding of 
64 


NEW TROUBLE 


65 


Nicholas Weaver’s statement. At present I considered 
it would do no good to disclose what I knew on those 
points. 

“I think I saw that tramp yesterday,” said Larry 
after I had finished. “ He bought a sheet of paper and 
an envelope in my store, and then asked if he could 
write a letter there.” 

“ And did he ? ” I asked in curiosity. 

“ Yes. At first I hated to let him do it, — he looked 
so disreputable, — but then I thought it might be an 
application for a position, and so told him to go ahead.” 

“ Who did he write to ? do you know ? ” 

“Somebody in Chicago, I think.” 

“ Do you remember the name ? ” 

“He tried the pen on a slip of paper first. It 
wouldn’t work very well. But I think the name was 
Holtzmann, or something similar.” 

I determined to remember the name, thinking it 
might prove of value sometime. 

“ The thing of it is,” broke in Henry Morse, “ what 
has become of this Stumpy? If he stole the Widow 
Canby’s money, it’s high time somebody was after him.” 

“ That’s true,” ejaculated another. * “ Have you any 
idea which way the fellow went ? ” 

Of course I had not. Indeed, I was hardly in condi- 
tion to do any rational thinking, much less form an 
opinion. The thief might be in hiding close at hand, 
or he might be miles away. 


66 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“Some of us had better make a search,” put in 
another. “ Come, boys, we’ll spread out and scour the 
woods.” 

“ That’s a good idea,” said Tony Parsons, the con- 
stable of the town. “ Meanwhile, Roger Strong, let 
us go to Judge Penf old’s house and put the case in his 
hands. He’ll get out a warrant, and perhaps a reward.” 

I thought this was a good idea, and readily assented, 
first, however, getting one of the boys to promise that 
he would call at the widow’s house and quiet Kate’s 
fears concerning my whereabouts. 

It was now early morning, and we had no difficulty 
in making our way through the woods to the main 
road. 

“ Guess we won’t find the judge up yet,” remarked 
Tony Parsons as we hurried along. “I’ve never yet 
found him out of bed afore seven o’clock. It will 
make him mighty mad to get up afore this time.” 

“ I’m sorry to disturb him,” I replied, with something 
of awe at the thought of rousing a magistrate of the 
law. 

“ But it’s got to be done,” went on Parsons, with a 
grave shake of his head, “ unless we all want to be mur- 
dered and robbed in our beds ! ” 

“ That’s true. I’d give all I’m worth to catch that 
tramp.” 

“ Reckon Widow Canby’ll be dreadfully cut up when 
she hears about the robbery.” 


NEW TROUBLE 


67 


“ I suppose so.” 

“ She may blame you, Roger. You see if it was any- 
body else, it would be different. But being as it’s you, 
why — ” 

“ I know what you mean,” I returned bitterly. “No 
one in Darby ville believes I can be honest.” 

“ I ain’t saying nothing against you, Roger,” returned 
Parsons, hastily. “ I reckon you ain’t no worse than any 
other boy. But you know what public sentiment is.” 

“ So I do ; but public sentiment isn’t always right,” 
was my spirited answer. 

“Who did you say those boys were that tied you 
up ? ” went on the constable, to change the subject. 

“ Duncan Woodward was the principal one.” 

“ Phew ! Reckon he didn’t think tying you up 
would prove such a serious matter.” 

“ If it hadn’t been for that, the robbery might have 
been prevented. I would have been home guarding 
the widow’s property, as she expected me to do.” 

“ Reckon so you would.” 

“ In a certain sense I hold Duncan W oodward and 
his followers responsible for what has occurred.” 

“Phew! What will Mr. Woodward say to that, I 
wonder ? ” 

“ I can’t help what he says. I’m not going to bear 
all the blame when it isn’t my fault.” 

“No, neither would I.” 

At length we reached the outskirts of the town. 


68 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


Judge Penfold lived at the top of what was termed the 
Hill, the aristocratic district of the place, and thither 
we made our way. 

“ Indeed, but the judge ain’t stirring yet ! ” exclaimed 
the Irish girl who came to answer our summons at the 
door. 

“ Then wake him at once,” said Parsons. “ Tell him 
there has been a most atrocious robbery and assault 
committed.” 

“ Mercy on us ! ” said the girl, lifting up her hands 
in horror. “And who was it, Mr. Parsons?” 

“Never mind who it was. Go at once.” 

“ I will that ! Robbery and assault. Mercy on us ! ” 

And leaving us standing in the hall, the hired girl 
sped up the front stairway. 

“The judge will be down as soon as he can,” she 
reported on her return. 

We waited as patiently as we could. While doing 
so I revolved what had occurred over in my mind, and 
came to the conclusion that the crime would be a diffi- 
cult one to trace. John Stumpy had probably made 
good use of his time, knowing that even if I had lost 
my life in the fire my sister would still recognize him 
as the thief. 

Suddenly I thought of the written confession that 
must yet remain in my pocket, and I was on the point of 
assuring myself that it was still safe when a heavy foot- 
step sounded overhead, and Judge Penfold came down. 


NEW TROUBLE 


69 


The judge was a tall, slender man of fifty, with 
hollow cheeks, a pointed nose, and a sharp chin. His 
voice was of a peculiarly high and rasping tone, and 
his manner far from agreeable. 

“ What’s the trouble ? ” he demanded, and it was 
plain to see that he did not relish having his early 
morning sleep broken. 

“Widow Canby’s house was robbed last night,” 
replied the constable ; and he gave the particulars. 

Judge Penfold was all ears at once. Indeed, it may 
be as well to state that he was a widower and had paid 
Widow Canby much attention, which, however, I well 
knew that good lady heartily resented. No doubt he 
thought if he could render her any assistance it would 
help along his suit. 

“We must catch the fellow at once,” he said. “ Par- 
sons, you must catch him without fail.” 

“ Easier said than done, judge,” replied the constable, 
doubtfully. “ Where am I to look for him ? The coun- 
try around here is pretty large.” 

“No matter. You are constable, and it is your duty 
to seek him out. I will sign the warrant for his arrest, 
and you must have him in jail by to-night, without 
fail.” 

“ I’ll do what I can, judge,” returned Parsons, meekly. 

“Strong, I’ll have to bind you over as a witness.” 

“ Bind me over ? ” I queried in perplexity. “ What 
do you mean? ” 


70 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


44 Hold you, unless you can give a bond to appear 
when wanted.” 

44 But I had nothing to do with the burglary.” 

44 You are principal accuser of this John Stumpy.” 

44 Well, I’ll promise to be on hand whenever wanted.” 

“That is not sufficient. Your character is — is not 
— ahem ! of the best, and — ” 

44 Why is my character not of the best ? ” I demanded. 

44 Well, ahem ! Your father, you see — ” 

44 Is innocent.” 

“Perhaps — perhaps, but, nevertheless, I will have 
to hold you. Parsons, I will leave him in your 
charge.” 

44 You have no right to arrest me,” I cried, for I 
knew very little of the law. 

44 What’s that?” demanded Judge Penfold, pom- 
pously. 44 You forget I am the judge of that.” 

“I don’t care,” I burst out. 44 1 have done no 
wrong.” 

44 It ain’t that, Roger. Many innocent men are held 
as witnesses,” put in Parsons. 

44 But I’ve got to attend to Mrs. Canby’s business,” I 
explained. 

44 1 fancy Mrs. Canby would rather get on the track 
of her money,” said J udge Penfold, severely. 44 Can 
you furnish bail ? ” 

I did not know that I could. The woman who had 
been robbed was my only friend, and she was away. 


NEW TROUBLE 


71 


“Then you’ll have to take him to the lockup, 
Parsons.” 

This news was far from agreeable. It would be no 
pleasant thing to be confined in the Darbyville jail, not 
to say anything of the anxiety it might cause Kate. 
Besides, I wanted to follow up John Stumpy. I was 
certain I could do it fully as well as the constable. 

“ Come, Roger, there is no help for it,” said Parsons, 
as I still lingered. “ It’s the law, and it won’t do any 
good to kick.” 

“Maybe not, but, nevertheless, It isn’t fair.” 

We walked out into the front hall, the judge fol- 
lowing us. 

“ Of course if you can get bail any time during the 
day I will let you go,” he said ; “ I will be down in my 
office from nine to twelve and two to four.” 

“Will you offer a reward for the capture of the 
man? ” I asked. 

“I cannot do that. The freeholders of the county 
attend to all such matters. Parsons, no doubt, will 
find the scoundrel.” 

As the judge finished there was a violent ringing of 
the door bell. Judge Penfold opened the door and 
was confronted by Mr. Aaron Woodward, who looked 
pale and excited. 

“Judge, I want you — hello! that boy! Judge, I 
want that boy arrested at once ! Don’t you let him 
escape I ” 


72 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“Want me arrested?” I ejaculated in astonishment. 
“ What for?” 

“ You know well enough. You thought to hide your 
tracks, but I have found you out. Parsons, don’t let 
him get out of the door. He’s a worse villain than his 
father was I ” 


CHAPTER X 


UNDER ARREST 

I will not hesitate to state that I was nearly 
stunned by Mr. Aaron Woodward’s unexpected state- 
ment. I knew that when he announced that I was a 
worse villain than my father he meant a good deal. 

Yet try as hard as I could it was impossible for me 
to discover what he really did mean. I was not con- 
scious of having done him any injury, either bodily or 
otherwise. Indeed, of late I had hardly seen the man. 
The Widow Canby was not partial to dealings with 
him, and I never went near him on my own account. 

It was plain to see that the merchant was thoroughly 
aroused. His face was pale with anger, and the look 
he cast upon me was one of bitter resentment. For 
the instant he eyed me as if he intended to spring upon 
me and choke the life out of my body, and involuntarily 
I shrank back. But then I recollected that the minions 
of the law who stood beside me would not allow such a 
course of procedure, and this made me breathe more 
freely. 

“ Yes, sir ; he’s a worse villain than his father ! ” 
73 


74 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


repeated Mr. Aaron Woodward, turning to Judge 
Penfold; “ a most accomplished villain, sir.” And he 
shook his fist within an inch of my nose. 

“What have I done to you, Mr. Woodward?” I 
demanded, as soon as I could speak. 

“Done, sir? You know very well what you’ve 
done, you young rascal ! ” puffed the merchant. “ Oh, 
but I’ll make you pay dearly for your villainy.” 

“I’ve committed no villainy,” I returned warmly. 
“ If you refer to the way I treated Duncan this morn- 
ing, why all I’ve got to say is that it was his own fault, 
and I can prove it.” 

“ Treated Duncan? Oh, pshaw ! This is a far more 
serious affair than a boy’s quarrel. Don’t let him 
escape, Parsons ” — the last to the constable, who had 
his hand on my shoulder. 

“No fear, sir,” was Parson’s reply. “He’s already 
under arrest.” 

“Under arrest?” repeated the merchant quickly. 
“Then you’ve already heard — ” 

“ He is — ahem — only under detention as a witness,” 
spoke up J udge Penfold. “ I do not think he had any- 
thing to do with the theft of the widow’s money.” 

“ Widow’s money ! What do you mean? ” 

In a few words Judge Penfold explained the situa- 
tion. “ Isn’t this what you came about ? ” he asked 
then. 

“ Indeed, no, sir. My affair is far more important — 


UNDER ARREST 


75 


at least to me. But you can make up your mind that 
Strong’s story is purely fiction. He is undoubtedly 
the real culprit, undoubtedly. Takes after his father.” 

“My father was an honest- man!” I cried out. “I 
don’t care what you or any one may say ! Some day 
he will be cleared of the stain on his name.” 

“ Oh, undoubtedly,” sneered Mr. W oodward. “ Mean- 
while, however, the community at large had better keep 
a sharp eye on his son. Whom do you assert stole the 
Widow Canby’s money?” 

“A tramp.” 

“ Humph ! A likely story.” 

“ It’s true. His name was John Stumpy.” 

“ John Stumpy ! ” 

As Mr. Aaron Woodward uttered the name, all the 
color forsook his face. 

“Yes, sir. And he claimed to know you,” I went 
on, my curiosity aroused over the merchant’s show of 
feeling. 

“ It’s a falsehood ! I never heard of such a man,” 
cried Mr. Woodward, but his face belied his words. 

“ W ell, what is your charge against Strong ? ” asked 
Judge Penfold, impatiently, probably tired of being so 
utterly ignored in the discussion. 

The merchant hesitated. 

“I prefer to speak to you about the matter in pri- 
vate,” he said sourly. 

“That isn’t fair. He ought to tell me what I am 


76 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


accused of,” I cried. 44 Every one who is arrested has 
a right to know that. I have done no wrong and I am 
not afraid.” 

“All assumed bravery, Judge Penfold; quite as- 
sumed, sir.” 

“No, sir. Tell me why you want me locked up,” I 
repeated. 

But instead of replying Mr. Woodward drew Judge 
Penfold to the rear end of the hall and began to speak 
in so low a tone that I could not catch a word. 

“You don’t mean it!” I heard the judge say pres- 
ently. “ Come into the library and give me the 
particulars.” 

The two men passed into the room, closing the door 
tightly behind them. They were gone nearly quarter 
of an hour* — a long wait for me. I wondered what 
could be the nature of Mr. Woodward’s accusation 
against me, but failed to solve the mystery. 

At length they came out. Judge Penf old’s face was 
a trifle sterner than before. Mr. Woodward looked 
pleased, as if his argument had proven conclusive. 

“ You will take Strong to the jail at once,” said the 
judge to Parsons “ and tell Booth to be careful of his 
prisoner.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Don’t let him escape,” added Aaron Woodward, 
anxiously. “ Don’t let him escape, sir, under any 
circumstances.” 


UNDER ARREST 


77 


“No fear,” was Parsons’s ready answer. “I never 
had one of ’em give me the slip yet.” 

And with great gravity he drew from his pocket a 
pair of ancient handcuffs, one of which he attached to 
my wrist and the other to his own. 

“Come, Roger. Better take it easy,” he said. “No 
use of kicking. March ! ” 

“But I’d like to know something about this,” I 
protested. “ What right — ” 

“ It is all quite legal,” put in Judge Penfold, pom- 
pously. “I understand the law perfectly.” 

“But—” 

“Say no more. Parsons, take him away.” 

“I shall see you later,” whispered Mr. Woodward in 
my ear as the constable hurried me off. 

The next instant we were on the street. Arrests in 
Darbyville were rare, and by the time we reached the 
jail we had a goodly following of boys and idle men, 
all anxious to know what was up. 

“ He stole the Widow Canby’s money,” I heard one 
man whisper, to which another replied : — 

“ Light fingered, eh ? Must take after his father. I 
always knew the Strongs couldn’t be trusted. ” 

The jail was a small affair, being nothing more than 
the loft over a carpenter shop. The jailer was a round- 
faced man named Booth, who filled in his spare time 
by doing odd jobs of carpentering in the shop down- 
stairs. We found him hard at work glueing some 


78 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


doors together. I knew him tolerably well, and he 
evinced considerable surprise at seeing me in custody. 

“ What, Roger ; arrested ! What for ? ” 

“ That’s what I would like to know,” I returned. 

In a few words Parsons told him what was to be 
done, and Booth led the way upstairs. 

“ ’Tain’t a very secure place,” he returned. “ Reckon 
I’ll have to nail down some of the windows unless 
you’ll give me your word not to run away.” 

“ I’ll promise nothing,” was my reply. “ I’m being 
treated unfairly, and I shall do as I think best.” 

“Then I’ll fasten everything as tight as a drum,” 
returned Booth. 

Going below, he secured a hammer and some nails, 
with which he secured the windows and the scuttle on 
the roof. 

“Reckon it’s tight enough now,” he said. “Just 
wait, Parsons, till I get him a bucket of water.” 

This was done, and then the two men left me, closing 
and locking the door of the enclosed staircase behind 
them. 

The loft was empty, saving a nail keg that stood in 
one corner of the floor. Pulling this out, I sat down 
to think matters over. 

Try my best I could not imagine what charge Mr. 
Aaron Woodward had brought against me. Yet such 
had been his earnestness that for the nonce everything 
else was driven from my mind. 


UNDER ARREST 


79 


The sounds of talking below interrupted my medita- 
tions. I recognized Kate’s voice, and the next moment 
my sister stood beside me. 

“ Oh, Roger ! ” was all she could say, and catching 
me by the arm she burst into tears. 

“ Don’t take it so hard, Kate,” I said. 44 Make sure 
it will all come out right in the end.” 

44 But to be arrested like — like a thief ! Oh, Roger, 
it is dreadful ! ” 

44 Never mind. I have done no wrong, and I’m not 
afraid of the result. Have they heard anything of 
John Stumpy yet?” 

44 Dick Blair says not. Mr. Parsons and the rest are 
after him, but he seems to have disappeared for good 
— and Mrs. Canby’s money with him.” 

44 Have you heard from her yet ? ” 

44 No ; but I’ve written her a letter and just posted it 
to Norfolk.” 

44 She won’t get it till day after to-morrow.” 

44 What will she say ? Oh, Roger, do you think — ” 

44 No, I don’t. The widow always trusted me, and I 
know she’ll take my word now. She is not so narrow- 
minded as the very folks who look down on her.” 

44 But it is awful ! Over two hundred dollars ! We 
can never make it up. We’ve only got twenty-eight ! ” 

44 We can’t exactly be called upon to make it up — ” I 
began. 

44 But we’ll want to,” put in Kate, hastily. 


80 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“I’d feel better if we did. The widow has always 
been so kind to us.” 

“ How long must you stay here ? ” 

“I don’t know. As long as Judge Penfold sees fit, 
I suppose.” 

“If only they could catch this John Stumpy.” 

“ I hope so — for other reasons than those you know, 
Kate.” 

“ Other reasons?” 

“Yes; very important ones, too. John Stumpy 
knew father well. And he was mixed up in that — 
that miserable affair.” 

“ Oh, Roger, how do you know ? ” 

“ I heard him say so. Besides, he dropped a letter 
that proved it. I have the letter in my pocket now. 
It’s the dying statement of one Nicholas Weaver — ” 

“ Nicholas Weaver ! He was a clerk with father ! ” 

“So I thought. Who Stumpy is, though, I don’t 
know. Do you?” 

“No; but his face I’m sure I’ve seen before. Let 
me see the letter. Have you read it ? ” 

“No; I hadn’t time to spell it out, it is so badly 
written. Maybe you can read it.” 

“I’ll try,” replied Kate. “ Hand it over.’ 

I put my hand in my pocket to do so. The state- 
ment was gone ! 


CHAPTER XI 


AARON WOODWARD’S VISIT 

Puzzled and dismayed, I made a rapid search of 
my clothes — first one pocket and then another. It 
was useless. Beyond a doubt the statement was 
nowhere about my person. 

I was quite sure it had not been taken from me. 
Strange as it may seem, neither Parsons nor Booth 
had searched me. Perhaps they deemed it useless to 
take away the possessions of a poor country boy. My 
jack-knife and other odds and ends were still in their 
accustomed places. 

“ It’s gone ! ” I gasped, when I was certain that such 
was a fact. 

“ Gone ? ” repeated Kate. 

“ Yes, gone, and I don’t know where. They didn’t 
take it from me. I must have lost it.” 

“ Oh, Roger, and it was so important ! ” 

“ I know it, Kate. It must have dropped from my 
pocket down at the tool house. Perhaps if I go down 
I can find it.” 

“ Go down ? ” she queried. 

81 


a 


82 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“ Oh, I forgot I was a prisoner.” 

“ Never mind, Roger. I’ll go down myself.” 

“ Aren’t you afraid ? ” 

“Not now. I wouldn’t have been of this Stumpy 
only he came on me so suddenly. I’ll go at once.” 

“You’d better,” said a voice behind her. “Your 
five minutes is up, Miss Kate.” And Booth appeared 
at the head of the stairs and motioned her down. 

“Good-by, Roger. I’m so sorry to leave you here 
alone.” 

“ It’s not such a dreadful place,” I rejoined lightly. 
“ If you discover anything, let me know at once.” 

“Be sure I will.” And with this assurance Kate 
was gone. 

I was as sorry for her as I was for myself. I knew 
all she would have to face in public — the mean things 
people would say to her, the snubbing she would be 
called on to bear. 

The loss of the statement rendered me doubly down- 
hearted. Oh, how much I had counted on it, assuring 
myself over and over again that it would surely clear 
my father’s name ! 

Hardly had my sister left me than there were more 
voices below, and I heard Mr. Woodward tell Booth 
that he had an order from J udge Penfold for a private 
interview with me. 

“ Better go right upstairs then, Mr. Woodward,” was 
the jailer’s reply. “ He’s all alone.” 


AARON WOODWARD’S VISIT 


83 


I wondered what the merchant’s visit could portend, 
but had little time for speculation. 

“So, sir, they’ve got you fast,” said Mr. Woodward 
sharply as he faced me. “ Fast, and no mistake.” 

“ What do you want ? ” I demanded boldly, coming 
at once to the front. 

“What do I want?” repeated the merchant, looking 
behind him to make sure that Booth had not followed 
him. “What do I want? Why, I want to help you, 
Strong, that’s what I want.” 

I could not help but smile. The idea of Mr. Wood- 
ward helping any one, least of all myself ! 

“ The only way you can help me is to set me free,” 
I returned. 

“ Oh, I can’t do that. You are held on the Canby 
charge solely.” 

“ But you told me you wanted me arrested.” 

“ So I did, but I intend to give you a chance — that 
is, if you will do what I want.” 

“ But why did you want me arrested? ” 

“You know well enough, Strong.” 

“ On the contrary, I haven’t the least idea.” 

“ Stuff and nonsense. See here, if you want to get 
off without further trouble, hand over those papers.” 

“ What papers ? ” 

“The papers you took last night,” replied Mr. 
Woodward, sharply. 

I was truly astonished. How in the world had he 


84 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


found out about the statement dropped by Stumpy? 
Was it possible there had been a meeting between the 
two? It looked like it. 

“ I haven’t got the papers,” I rejoined. 

“ Don’t tell me a falsehood, sir,” he thundered. 

It’s true.” 

“ Do you deny you have the packet ? ” 

“I do.” 

“Come, Strong, that story won’t answer. Hand it 
over.” 

“ I haven’t it.” 

“ Where is it?” 

“ I lost it,” I replied, before I had time to think. 

“ Lost it ! ” he cried anxiously. 

“ Yes, sir,” I returned boldly, resolved to make the 
best of it, now the cat was out of the bag. “ Either 
that or it was stolen from me.” 

He looked at me in silence for a moment. 

“Do you expect me to believe all your lies?” he 
demanded finally. 

“I don’t care what you believe,” I answered. “I 
tell the truth. And one question I want to ask you, 
Aaron Woodward. Why are you so anxious to gain 
possession of Nicholas Weaver’s dying statement?” 

The merchant gave a cry of astonishment, nay, 
horror. He turned pale and glared at me fiercely. 

“Nicholas Weaver’s dying statement!” he ejacu- 
lated. “What do you know of Nicholas Weaver?” 


AARON WOODWARD’S VISIT 


85 


Now I had spoken I was almost sorry I had said 
what I had. Yet I could not but notice the tremen- 
dous effect my words had produced. 

“Never mind what I know,” I replied. “Why do 
you take an interest in it ? ” 

“ I ? I don’t know anything about it,” he faltered. 
“ I hardly knew Nicholas Weaver.” 

“ Indeed? Yet you want his statement.” 

“No, I don’t. I don’t know anything about his 
statement,” he continued doggedly. “I want my 
papers. I don’t care a rap about any one else’s.” 

It was now my turn to be astonished. Evidently 
I had been on the wrong track from the beginning. 

“ If you don’t want his statement, I’m sure I don’t 
know what you do want,” I rejoined, and I spoke the 
exact truth. 

“Don’t tell lies, Strong. You know well enough. 
Hand them over.” 

“ Hand what over ? ” 

“ The packet of papers.” 

“ I haven’t any packet.” 

“ Strong, if you don’t do as I demand, I’ll send you 
to prison after your father.” 

“I can’t help it. I haven’t any papers. If you 
don’t believe me, search me.” 

“ Where have you hidden them ? ” 

“I never had them to hide.” 

“ I know better, sir, I know better,” he fumed. 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


I made no reply. What could I say ? 

“ Do you hear me, Strong ? ” 

For reply I walked oyer to the slatted window and 
began to whistle. My action only increased the mer- 
chant’s anger. 

“For the last time, Strong, will you give up the 
papers?” he cried. 

“For the last time, Mr. Woodward, let me say I 
haven’t got them, never had them, and, therefore, can- 
not possibly give them up.” 

“ Then you shall go to prison, sir. Mark my word, 
— you shall go to prison ! ” 

And with this parting threat the merchant hurried 
down the loft steps and rapped loudly for Booth to 
come and let him out. 

- When he was gone, I sat down again to think over 
the demand he had made upon me. To what papers 
did he refer ? In vain I cudgelled my brain to elicit 
an answer. 

He spoke about sending me to prison, and in such 
tones as if it were an easy matter to do. Assuredly 
he must have some grounds upon which to base so 
positive an assertion. 

No doubt he was now on his way to Judge Penf old’s 
office to swear out the necessary papers. I did not 
know much about the law, but I objected strongly to 
going to prison. Once in a regular lockup, the chances 
of getting out would be indeed slim. 


AARON WOODWARD’S VISIT 


87 


I reasoned that the best thing to do was to escape 
while there was a chance. Perhaps I was wrong in 
this conclusion, but I was only a country boy, and I 
had a horror of stone walls and iron bars. 

Escape ! No sooner had the thought entered my 
mind than I was wrapped up in it. Undoubtedly it 
was the best thing to do. Freedom meant not only 
liberty, but also a chance to hunt down John Stumpy 
and clear my father’s name. 

I looked about the loft for the best means of accom- 
plishing my purpose. As I have said, the place was 
over a carpenter shop. The roof was sloping to the 
floor, and at each end was a small window heavily 
slatted. 

The distance to the ground from the window was 
not less than fifteen feet, rather a long drop even if I 
could manage to get the slats loose, which I doubted, 
for I had no tools at hand. 

I resolved to try the door, and was about to do so 
when I heard the bolts shoot back and Booth appeared. 

For an instant I thought to trip him up and rush 
past him, but he stood on the steps completely block- 
ing the way. 

“ All right, Roger ? ” he asked. 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ Quite com’table, boy ? ” 

“As comfortable as any one could be in such a 
place,” I rejoined lightly. 


88 


TKUE TO HIMSELF 


“ ’Tain’t exactly a parlor,” he chuckled. “ No easy 
chairs or sofys ; but the food’s good. I’m a-going to 
get it for you now. Then after that maybe the judge 
will call around. I’ll bring the dinner in a minute.” 

He climbed downstairs, bolting the door after him. 

In five minutes — or ten at the most — I knew he 
would be back. After that there was no telling how 
long he would stay. 

Now, therefore, was the proper time to escape, — 
now or never I 


CHAPTER XII 


A SURPRISE 

No time must be lost. Booth lived but a short 
hundred feet from the jail, if such it might be called, 
and if his wife had dinner ready it would not take 
him long to bring it. 

I surveyed the room in which I was incarcerated 
critically. Escape by either window was, as I have 
intimated, out of the question. On account of its 
height, the scuttle was also not to be considered. 

Apparently nothing remained to try but the door. 
Running down the steps, I looked it over. It was of 
solid oak planking, an inch thick, and fastened at both 
top and bottom. 

It was a hard thing to tackle, especially with no 
tools, and, after surveying it, I went upstairs again to 
search for something that might do as a pry. 

I could see nothing but the empty nail keg, and I 
could discover no use at first in this until the idea 
struck me of wedging it between one of the lower 
steps and the door, and, by jumping upon it, forcing 
the bottom bolt. 


89 


90 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


With some difficulty I placed the keg in position 
and brought down my full weight upon it. The first 
time the bolt merely creaked, but the second there 
was a snap, and the lower part of the door burst out- 
ward several inches. 

The bottom bolt had yielded, and now only the top 
one remained. But to reach this was a difficult mat- 
ter, as no purchase could be had against it. 

While considering the situation, I imagined I heard 
my jailer returning, and my heart jumped into my 
throat. What if Booth should see the damage I had 
done? I reckoned that things would go hard with 
me if it became known that I had attempted to break 
jail. Judge Penfold would surely give me the full 
penalty of the law. 

But the approach of Booth was only imaginary, and, 
after a brief interval of silence, I breathed freer. 

I ascended the stairs once more to see if I could not 
find something besides the keg to assist me. If only 
I had a plank or a beam, I might use it as a battering- 
ram. 

The thought of a plank led me to examine the floor, 
and, going over it carefully, I soon came to a short 
board, one end of which was loose. Raising it, I 
pulled with all my might, and the board came up. 

I was astonished to see that it made an opening into 
the shop below. I had imagined that the floor or ceil- 
ing was of double thickness. 


A SURPRISE 


91 


This gave me a new idea. Why not escape through 
the floor? To pry up another board would perhaps be 
easier than to force the door. 

I tried the board next to the opening. The end was 
somewhat rotted, and it came up with hardly an effort. 

In another moment the opening would be large 
enough to allow the passage of my body. Putting 
the first board under the edge of the second, I bore 
down upon it. 

As I did so I heard a noise that alarmed me greatly. 
It was the sound of Booth returning, and the next 
instant the carpenter had opened the outer door and 
entered. 

In one hand he carried a tray containing my dinner. 
He crossed the floor directly under me without look- 
ing up. Then his eyes caught the shattered door and 
he gave a loud exclamation. 

“ By ginger ! If that boy ain’t gone and escaped ! ” 

He set down the tray with a rattle and tried to pull 
the door open. But the top bolt had become displaced, 
and it was several seconds before it could be shot back. 

Meanwhile I was not idle. As quietly as I could I 
tore up the second board. The deed was done just as 
Booth stumbled over the keg on his way up the stairs. 

As my jailer appeared at the top, I let my body 
through the opening. It was a tight squeeze, espe- 
cially when accomplished in a hurry. I landed in a 
heap on a pile of shavings. 


92 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“ Stop ! stop ! ” called out Booth. “ Roger, don’t 
you hear me?” 

I certainly did hear him, but paid no attention to his 
words. My one thought was to get away as quickly as 
possible. 

“ If you don’t stop, I’ll shoot you,” went on Booth at 
the top of his voice. “ Don’t you know breaking jail 
is a — a felony ? ” 

I did not know what kind of a crime it was. I had 
made up my mind to escape, and intended to do so, 
even if such a deed constituted manslaughter. I made 
a break for the door and passed out just as Booth came 
tramping down the stairs. 

I ran across the yard that separated the carpenter 
shop from the house. As I did so, Mrs. Booth appeared 
at the back door. Upon seeing me she held up her 
hands in horror. 

“ Mercy on us ! Roger Strong ! Where be you 
a-running to ? ’Zekel ! ’Zekel ! the prisoner’s broke 
loose ! ” 

“ I know it, Mandy ! ” I heard Ezekiel Booth answer. 
“ Dunno how he did it, though. Stop, Roger, it’s best 
now ; jest you mark my word ! ” 

I heard no more. Jumping the side fence, I ran 
through a bit of orchard and across a stony lot until I 
reached the Pass River. 

At this point this body of water was several hundred 
feet wide. The bank sloped directly to the water’s 



4 4 


Hi, there, what are you doing in my boat ? 


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A SURPRISE 


93 


edge. Near at hand were several private boat-houses, 
one belonging to Mr. Aaron W oodward, he having built 
it to please Duncan. 

At the end of the boat-house pier lay a skiff, the oars 
resting upon the seats. I knew it was wrong to make 
use of the craft, but “ necessity knows no law,” and my 
need was great. 

Running down to the end of the pier, I dropped into 
the boat and shoved off. As I did so, Duncan Wood- 
ward, accompanied by Pultzer, came out of the boat- 
house. 

“ Hi, there, what are you doing in my boat ? ” he sang 
out. “ What, Roger Strong ! ” he continued as he 
came nearer. 

“ You must lend me the boat, Duncan,” I returned. 
“ I’ve got to cross the river in a hurry.” 

“ Not much ! I thought you were in jail.” 

“ Not just now,” I replied. “ You can get your boat 
on the other side.” 

“ Hold up ! You shan’t have her. Come back ! ” 

But I was already pulling out into the stream. He 
continued to shout after me, and presently I saw the 
two joined by Booth, and all watched me in dismay as I 
made for the opposite shore. 

Reaching the bank, I beached the boat high up and 
then climbed to the roadway that ran beside the stream. 
Trees and bushes were thick here, and I had but little 
difficulty in hiding from the view of those opposite. 


94 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


For a moment I hesitated as to which way to proceed. 
A number of miles down the stream lay Newville, of 
which I have already spoken. Probably my pursuers 
would think I had gone in that direction. If so, they 
would hasten to the bridge below, with the intention of 
cutting me off. 

I therefore started immediately on my way up the 
river road, resolved to put as much - ground as possible 
between myself and my pursuers. ' I had no definite 
destination in view, but thought to gain some hiding- 
place where I might rest secure and think things over. 

It was now going on to two o’clock in the afternoon, 
and as I had not had anything to eat since the noon 
previous, I began to feel decidedly hungry. I felt in 
my pocket and discovered that I was the possessor of 
sixty-five cents, and with this amount of cash I did not 
see any reason for my remaining hungry any longer. 

Presently I came to a small, white cottage, upon the 
front porch of which was displayed the sign 

BOARDING 

Ascending the steps, I knocked at the door, and a 
comely, middle-aged woman answered my summons. 

“ I see that you take boarders here,” I said. “ I am 
hungry, and several miles from any restaurant. Can 
you furnish me with dinner ? ” 

She looked me over rather sharply before replying. 
Then I realized for the first time that my appearance 


A SURPRISE 


95 


was not of the best. My clothes were considerably the 
worse for having rolled over and over in the old tool 
house, and in escaping from my prison I had made 
several rents in my coat. 

“ I will pay you whatever you charge,” I added 
hastily, “ and I would like to wash and brush up, too; I 
have had a tumble,” which was literally true. 

“ I can let you have dinner for twenty-five cents,” 
she said finally. “ I won’t charge you anything for 
cleaning up,” she added, with something like a smile. 
“ Will you mind paying in advance ? ” 

“No, ma’am,” and I handed over the money. “I 
suppose I won’t have to wait very long.” 

“ Oh, no, the regular boarders have just finished. 
You can sit right down.” 

“ If you don’t mind, I’ll take a wash first.” 

The woman led the way to an ante-room, in which 
were placed a bowl of water, towel, and soap, as well as 
a dust brush. It did not take me long to fix myself 
up, and then I flattered myself I did not present an 
unbecoming appearance. 

The dinner that the woman served was not as good 
as that which my sister Kate helped to prepare at the 
Widow Canby’s, but it was wholesome food, and my 
sharpened appetite made it disappear rapidly. 

As I ate I reflected upon my situation. For the life 
of me I did not know what to do next. I longed to 
see my sister and tell her that I was safe. This done, I 


96 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


intended to devote my time to hunting up the man who 
I firmly believed held my father’s reputation in his hand. 
I was sure I would discover him sooner or later, and 
this accomplished, I would not let him out of my sight 
until he had confessed his secret. I wondered if Kate 
had succeeded in finding that precious statement I had 
lost. Heartily did I reproach myself for not having 
taken better care of it. 

Having satisfied myself upon the substantial things 
set before me, I finished my meal with a small cut of 
apple pie. 

As I was swallowing the last mouthful I glanced out 
of the window up the road, and gave a cry of surprise. 
And no wonder, for coming toward the house was Mr. 
Aaron Woodward, and beside him walked John Stumpy ! 


CHAPTER XIII 


AN INTERESTING CONVERSATION 

I could hardly believe the evidence of my senses 
when I saw Mr. Aaron Woodward coming up the road 
with John Stumpy beside him. It would have aston- 
ished me to have seen the merchant alone, but to see 
him in company with the very man I was looking for 
was more than I had thought possible. 

Yet I reflected that the tramp — or whatever the man 
was — had evinced a determination to secure an inter- 
view with Mr. Woodward before quitting Darbyville. 
There was important business to be transacted between 
them. Mr. John Stumpy intended to have his say, 
whatever that might mean. 

What was to be done ? It would never do for me to 
be seen. Nothing short of arrest would follow. I must 
get out of the way as quickly as possible. 

During the time I had been eating, the sky had be- 
come overcast as if a shower was imminent. Taking 
advantage of this fact I rose quickly and reached for 
my hat. 

“ Guess we’re going to have a thunder shower,” I 
97 


H 


98 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


remarked. “Hope it holds off. I don’t want to get 
wet.” 

“ Then you’ll have to hurry,” rejoined the woman as 
she looked out of the door. “ Looks as if it would be 
here in less than quarter of an hour.” 

“Then I’m off. Good day.” 

“ Good day. Come again.” 

I slipped out of the door, and passing behind a hedge, 
made my way to the road. As I did so, Mr. Wood- 
ward and Stumpy turned from the highway and walked 
directly up the gravel path that led to the house ! 

I was dumfounded by this movement. What did 
they mean by goingto the very place I had just vacated? 
Was it possible they had seen me ? 

I earnestly hoped not ; for if so, it would spoil a little 
plan that had just come to me, which was to follow 
them, see what they were up to, and, if possible, over- 
hear whatever might be said. 

I was soon convinced that neither of the men was 
aware of my presence. They were talking earnestly 
and stepped up on the porch just as ordinary visitors 
would have done. In a moment the woman let them in 
and the door closed behind them. 

My curiosity was aroused to its highest pitch, and at 
the risk of being discovered by any one who might 
chance to be passing by I walked cautiously back along 
the hedge until I reached a clump of rose bushes that 
grew directly under one of the dining-room windows. 


AN INTERESTING CONVERSATION 


99 


The window was open, and by a little manoeuvring I 
easily managed to see and hear what was going on 
within. 

“ You came for the rent, I suppose, Mr. Woodward,” 
the woman was saying. “ J oel was going to bring it 
up to-night. He would have brought it over this morn- 
ing, only he thought it was going to rain and he had 
some hay he wanted to get in.” 

“Yes, I did come for the rent, Mrs. Decker,” replied 
the merchant. “ It’s due several days now.” 

“ I have it here — thirty dollars. Here is the receipt 
book.” 

There was the rustle of bills and the scratching of a 
pen. 

“Here you are, Mrs. Decker.” 

“ Thank you, sir. N ow we’ll be worry free for another 
month.” 

“ So you are. Nothing like being prompt.” 

“ My husband was going to speak to you about the 
roof. It leaks dreadfully.” 

“ Pooh ! That can’t be. Why, it was patched only 
two years ago.” 

“You are wrong, Mr. Woodward. It is four years, 
and then but very little was done to it.” 

“ It cost near twelve dollars,” growled the merchant. 
“ You can’t expect me to be fixing up the house all the 
time.” 

“ It leaks very badly.” 


100 


TBUB TO HIMSELF 


“ Then your husband will have to attend to it. I 
can’t spend any more money this year.” 

“ I don’t know what we’ll do. I wish you would just 
step outside and look up at the shingles. Nearly all 
of them are ready to fall off.” 

I was alarmed by Mrs. Decker’s request. Suppose 
the trio should come out ? I would surely be dis- 
covered. But my fears were groundless, as the next 
words of Mr. Woodward proved. 

“ I can’t go out now, madam, not now. I haven’t 
time. I have a little business to transact with this man, 
and then I must return to Darby ville.” 

“I’m sorry — ” began the woman. 

“ So am I ; but it cannot be helped. Can I use this 
room for a while ? ” 

By the look upon Mrs. Decker’s face it was plain to 
see she wanted to say, u No, you can’t,” but she hardly 
dared to speak the words, so she gave an icy assent and 
withdrew. 

The merchant followed her to the door and saw that 
it was closed tightly behind her. Then he strode across 
the room and faced John Stumpy. 

“Well, sir, now we’ll have an accounting,” he began 
in an authoritative voice. 

“So we will, Woody,” returned John Stumpy, in no 
wise abashed by the other’s manner. 

The merchant winced at the use of a nickname, but 
after an instant’s hesitation passed it over. 


AN INTERESTING CONVERSATION 


101 


“ What do you mean by coming to Darbyville, sir, 
when I have repeatedly written you to stay away ? ” 

“ Oh, come, Woody, don’t get on your high horse,” 
was Stumpy’s response, as he swung back in the rocker 
he occupied. “ You know I never could stand your 
high-toned ways.” 

“ I flatter myself I am a trifle above common people,” 
returned Mr. Woodward, and it was plain to see where 
Duncan got his arrogant manner. 

“ Oh, pshaw! don’t make me tired,” yawned Stumpy. 
“ Come, let’s to business.” 

“ I am at business. Why did you come here ? ” 

“ You know well enough. Didn’t I write to you ? ” 
“Yes, and got my answer. We’ve squared up ac- 
counts, sir.” 

“ Don’t 4 sir ’ me, — it don’t go down,” cried Stumpy, 
angrily. “We haven’t squared up, not by a jugful, — 
not till you hand over some more cash.” 

“ I’ve handed over enough now.” 

“ No, you hain’t. Do you think I’m going to do all 
your work for nothing ? ” 

“You were well paid.” 

“ It’s only you as thinks so ; I don’t.” 

“ How much more do you want ? ” 

“A thousand dollars.” 

The largeness of the demand fairly took away my 
breath. As for Mr. Aaron Woodward, he was beside 
himself. 


102 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“ A thousand dollars ! ” he said. “ Why, you’re 
crazy, sir.” 

“No, I ain’t ; I mean just what I say.” 

“ You expect me to pay you a thousand dollars ? ” 

“ Of course I do. I wouldn’t ask it if I didn’t.” 

“ See here, Fer — ” 

“ Sh ! — John Stumpy, if you please.” 

“ That’s so, I forgot. But see here, a thousand dol- 
lars ! Why, I’ve already paid you that.” 

“ So you have. Now I want another thousand and 
then we’ll cry quits.” 

Mr. Aaron Woodward grew white with rage. “I 
never heard of such an outrageous demand,” he cried. 
“ I’ll never pay it.” 

“ Oh, yes, you will,” rejoined the other, coolly. 
“Aaron Woodward never yet acted rashly.” 

“ Suppose I refuse to pay? ” 

“ Better not ; I’m a bad man when I am aroused.” 

“ I don’t fear you. You can do nothing to me.” 

“ Oh, yes, I can. I can tell ugly stories about Mr. 
Aaron Woodward ; stories concerning his doings when 
he was collector for Holland & Mack.” 

“ And who would believe you ? ” sneered the mer- 
chant. “ You, a common tramp — ” 

“Tramp, am I — ” interrupted John Stumpy, with a 
scowl. “ If I am, who made me so ? ” 

“ Your own self and the bottle. Do you think you 
can hurt me ? Nonsense ! ” 


AN INTERESTING CONVERSATION 


103 


“I can try.” 

“ And who will believe you, I repeat ? A common 
tramp — whom the police are now hunting for, because 
of a robbery that occurred only last night.” 

“ ’Tain’t so ! ” 

“ It is. You broke into the Widow Canby’s house 
and stole over two hundred dollars.” 

In spite of the dirt on his face, John Stumpy grew 
pale. 

“ Who can prove it ? ” 

“ Several people. Carson Strong’s son, for one.” 

Stumpy sprang to his feet. Then almost as suddenly 
sat down. 

“ Didn’t know he had a son,” he said, as carelessly as 
he could. 

“ Yes, you did,” returned the merchant, flatly. “ I 
think, Fer — Stumpy, I know a little more about you 
than you do about me.” 

Bitter hatred spread itself over the tramp’s face. 

“ Oh, ho, you do, do you ? Well, we’ll see. 4 Them 
laughs best as laughs last.’ If you won’t pay, I’m 
off.” 

He rose to his feet and reached for his hat. Mr. 
Woodward intercepted him. 

“ Where are you going? ” 

“ That’s my business. I want you to know I didn’t 
come on all the way from Chicago for nothing.” 

“ Are you hard up ? ” 


104 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“ Yes, I am. I want money, and I’m going to have 
it. ” 

“ How about the two hundred dollars you stole last 
night?” 

Stumpy hesitated. 

“Well, if you want to know the truth, I lost the 
money,” he said. 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE PRICE OF SILENCE 

For a moment I was staggered by John Stumpy’s 
announcement. Was it possible he was telling the 
truth? If so, the chances of recovering the Widow 
Canby’s money would assume a different shape. To 
arrest him would prove a moral satisfaction, but it 
would not restore the stolen dollars. 

Occupying the position I did, I was more interested 
in restoring the stolen money than I was in having the 
tramp incarcerated. 

Nothing would have given me greater satisfaction 
than to have met the Widow Canby at the depot with 
the two hundred odd dollars in my pocket. It would 
have silenced the public tongue and made my breaking 
jail of no consequence. 

But perhaps John Stumpy was telling a falsehood. 
He was not above such a thing, and would not hesitate 
if he thought anything could be gained thereby. That 
Mr. Aaron Woodward also guessed such to be a fact 
was proven by the words that followed Stumpy’s state- 
ment. 


105 


106 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“ Lost the money ? ” he ejaculated. “ Do you expect 
me to believe you, sir ? ” 

“It’s true.” 

“Nonsense, sir. Jack Fer — ” 

« Sh ! ” 

“John Stumpy isn’t the one to lose over two hundred 
dollars ! ” 

“Just what I always said myself, partner, and — ” 

“ Don’t 4 partner ’ me, sir ! ” 

“Well, wasn’t we all partners in the good times gone 
by?” 

“No, sir ! ” 

“T reckon we were. Howsomever, let it pass. 
Well, as I was saying, I reckoned I’d never lose any 
money, leasewise a small pile, but that’s what I have 
done, and that’s why I want you to come down.” 

And John Stumpy leaned back in the rocker in a 
defiant fashion. 

The merchant eyed him sharply in silence for a 
moment. 

“ Where did you lose the money ? ” he asked at 
length. 

44 How do I know ? If I did, don’t you suppose I’d 
go back and pick it up ? ” 

“ I thought perhaps you were afraid of discovery.” 

44 Humph ! I’m not skeered of any such constables 
as they have in Darby ville.” 

44 But you must have some idea where you dropped 


THE PRICE OF SILENCE 


107 


it,” went on Mr. Woodward, and I was astonished to 
see how coolly this man, who always pretended to be so 
straightforward, could inquire about stolen money. 

“Not the least,” responded John Stumpy. “There 
was two hundred and sixty dollars in all. I took out 
ten and left the rest in the pocketbook it was in. I’ve 
got the ten dollars, and that’s all. And that’s why 
you’ve got to come down,” he went on deliberately. 
“ I’m off for Chicago to-night, and I’m not going back 
empty handed.” 

“ You think I ought to pay you for your own care- 
lessness,” returned Mr. Woodward, coolly. 

“ Not a bit of it. You owe me every cent I ask.” 

“I don’t owe you a penny.” 

“You owe me a thousand dollars, and for the last 
time let me tell you, you’ve got to pay or take the con- 
sequences.” And John Stumpy brought his fist down 
on the table with a bang. 

“ Hold on ; don’t make so much noise,” cried Mr. 
Aaron Woodward in alarm. “ There is no use of rous- 
ing the household.” 

“ I don’t care. Either you’ll come down or I’ll rouse 
the whole of Darbyville,” cried the tramp, vehemently. 

“ I haven’t any money.” 

“ You can’t tell me that.” 

“ It’s true. Times are getting worse every day. ” 

“ Didn’t the woman who lives here just pay you ? ” 

“ Yes ; thirty dollars — ” 


108 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“ And didn’t you put the bills in with a big roll in 
your vest pocket ? ” went on Stumpy, triumphantly. 

The merchant bit his lip. 

“ That money is to pay a bill that falls due to-mor- 
row,” he replied. 

“ W ell, my 4 bill ’ falls due to-day, and it’s got to be 
met. So come ; no more beating about the bush. 
We’ve talked long enough. Now to business. Do 
you intend to pay or not ? ” 

The merchant hesitated. Evidently he was afraid to 
oppose the other too strongly. 

“ W ell, I don’t want to let you go without any- 
thing,” he began. “ I’ll let you have twenty-five 
dollars — ” 

John Stumpy jumped up in a passion. “ That settles 
it. I’m done with you. To-night I’ll send a letter to 
Chris Holtzmann, 897 Sherman Street, Chicago, and 
tell him a few things he wants to know, and — ” 

“You dare!” almost shrieked Mr. Woodward. 
“ W rite a single word to him and I’ll — I’ll — ” 

“ So ! ho ! You’re afraid of him, are you ? ” 

“ No, I’m not, but what’s the use of letting him know 
anything ? ” 

“ Humph ! Do you suppose I’d tell him without 
pay? Not much ! I can easily get him to fork over 
fifty or a hundred dollars. And he’ll make you pay it 
back, ten times over.” 

Mr. Aaron W oodward sank back in a chair without 


THE PRICE OF SILENCE 


109 


a word. Evidently he was completely baffled, and 
knew not which way to turn. 

As for myself, I was very much in the dark as to what 
all this was about. I was certain the past events 
spoken of pertained to my father’s affairs, but failed to 
“make connections.” 

One thing, however, I did do, and that was to make 
a note of Mr. Chris Holtzmann’s address. He was the 
man Stumpy had written to just previous to the rob- 
bery, and he was perhaps one of the persons concerned 
in my father’s downfall. 

“ See here,” said the merchant at last. “ It’s too late 
for us to quarrel. What good would an exposure to 
Holtzmann do ? ” 

“ Never mind. If you won’t come to time, I shall do 
as I please,” growled Stumpy. 

“ But a thousand dollars 1 I haven’t got it in cash.” 

“ You can easily get it.” 

“Not so easily as you think. Tell you what I will 
do. I’ll give you a hundred. But you must give up 
all evidence you have against me.” 

Stumpy gave a short, contemptuous laugh. “You 
must think me as green as grass,” he sneered. “I’m 
not giving up any evidence. I’m holding on to all I’ve 
got and gathering more.” 

“ You have Nicholas Weaver’s statement,” went on 
Mr. Woodward, With interest. 

“ So I have. Nick told the truth in it, too.” 


110 


TKTJE TO HIMSELF 


“ I would like to see it.” 

“ Of course you would. So would some other people, 
— Carson Strong’s boy, for instance.” 

“ Sh! — not so loud.” 

“Well, then, don’t bring the subject up.” 

“ Have you the statement with you ? ” 

“ Maybe I haven’t ; maybe I have.” 

“Perhaps it was taken from you,” went on Mr. 
Woodward, curiously. 

“ What do you know about that ? ” Stumpy again 
jumped to his feet. “You’ve been talking to that 
Strong boy,” he cried. 

“ Supposing I have ? ” 

“Well, it didn’t do you no good. Say, how much 
does the young cub know ? ” 

“ He knows too much for the good of either of us,” 
responded the merchant. 

“ Sorry he wasn’t found in the ruins of that tool 
house,” growled the tramp, savagely. 

This was certainly a fine assertion for me to hear. 
Yet it was no more than I would expect from John 
Stumpy. He was a villain through and through. 

“ You meant to burn him up, did you?” asked Mr. 
Woodward. 

“And if I had, Mr. Aaron Woodward would never 
have shed a tear,” laughed John Stumpy. 

“ Let me see the statement.” 

John Stumpy hesitated. “Hand over the money 
first, and maybe I will.” 


THE PRICE OF SILENCE 


111 


“ The hundred dollars? ” 

“No, a thousand.” 

“ Do you suppose I carry so much money with me ? ” 

“ Give me what you have in that roll, and I’ll take 
your word for the rest.” 

The merchant gave something that sounded very 
much like a groan. 

“Well, I suppose if you insist on it, I must,” he 
said. “ I’ll give you what I have, but I won’t promise 
you any more.” 

“Hand it over,” was Stumpy’s laconic reply. He 
probably thought half a loaf better than no bread at all. 

With a heavy sigh Mr. Woodward drew the roll of 
bills from his pocket and began to count them over. I 
was eager to catch sight of them. I stood on tiptoe 
and peered into the window. It was an interesting 
scene ; the sour look upon the merchant’s face ; the 
look of greed in the tramp’s eye. In a moment the 
counting was finished. 

“A hundred and seventy dollars,” said Mr. Aaron 
Woodward. “ Here you are.” And he held them out. 
Stumpy almost snatched them from his hand. 

“ There, now that’s settled,” he said. “ Now about 
— What was that ? ” 

A noise had disturbed him. While absorbed in what 
the two were doing I had given an involuntary cough. 

“ Somebody listening,” he declared as he thrust the 
money into his pocket. 


112 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“We ought to be more careful.” 

“Only some one coughing in the next room,” re- 
turned Mr. Woodward. “Don’t get scared.” 

“ I ain’t scared, but I don’t want other folks to know 
my business. Reckon you don’t either.” 

“No, indeed. It’s bad enough for me to be seen in 
your company,” returned Mr. Aaron Woodward, with 
just a trace of his former lofty manner. 

“No insinuations, please,” was the ready reply. 
“ My hands ain’t any dirtier than yours.” 

“Well, well, let’s stop quarrelling. Let me see the 
statement.” 

“ Will you promise to hand it back if I do? ” 

“ Why not let me have it? ” 

“ Never mind why. Will you give it back? ” 

“ If you insist on it, you shall have it back,” was Mr. 
Woodward’s final reply, seeing that he could gain 
nothing by parleying. 

Stumpy drew forth the envelope. I anticipated 
what was coming. 

“Here it is,” he said, and handed it over, as he 
supposed. 

“The envelope is empty,” said Mr. Woodward. 

Stumpy looked dumfounded. 


CHAPTER XV 


AN ODD STATEMENT 

Before Mr. Woodward made the announcement 
just recorded he had walked close up to the window, 
probably to get into the light, for the sky was now 
darkening rapidly, portending the near breaking out 
of the storm I have mentioned. 

In doing this the merchant’s back was turned upon 
his companion, and for an instant Stumpy had been 
unable to see what the other was doing. 

When therefore Mr. Woodward declared the en- 
velope to be empty every action of the tramp indicated 
that he did not believe the statement. 

“ Empty ? ” he cried hoarsely. 

“ Yes, empty,” replied the merchant ; “ and you knew 
it,” he added. 

“ No such thing. The statement was inside. Woody, 
you’re trying to play a sharp game, but it won’t work.” 

“ What do you mean, sir ? ” 

“You’re trying to rob me.” 

“Nonsense. I say the envelope was empty.” 

“And I say it wasn’t. Come, hand over my 
property. ” 


i 


113 


114 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“ I tell you, Fer — Stumpy, I haven’t it.” 

“ I don’t care what you say. You can’t play any 
such game off on me,” rejoined John Stumpy, with 
increasing anger. 

“ I’m only speaking the truth.” 

“ You ain’t. Hand it over, or I’ll — ” 

John Stumpy caught the merchant by the coat collar. 

“What would you do?” cried Mr. Woodward in 
alarm, and it was plain to see he was a coward at 
heart. 

“ I’ll choke the life out of you; that’s what I’ll do. 
Hand over the statement.” 

“ I haven’t it, upon my honor.” 

“ Your honor ? Bah ! What does that amount to? ” 

John Stumpy suddenly shifted his hand from its 
grasp on the collar to the merchant’s throat. For a 
moment I thought Mr. Woodward was in danger of 
being choked to death. 

“ Stop ! Stop ! Se — search me if you — you want 
to,” he gasped. 

But John Stumpy’s passion seemed to have got the 
better of his reason. He did not relax his hold in the 
least. 

A short struggle ensued. The two backed up 
against the table, and presently a chair was upset. 
Of course all this made considerable noise. Yet 
neither of the men heeded it. 

Presently the door from the other room swung open, 


AN ODD STATEMENT 


115 


and the two had hardly time to separate before a tall, 
lank farmer entered. 

“Hello, what’s up?” he asked in a loud, drawling 
tone. 

For an instant neither spoke, evidently not knowing 
what to say. 

“We were — were — ahem — trying to — to catch a 
rat,” replied Mr. Woodward, with an effort. 

u A rat? ” 

“Exactly, sir. Had a terrible time with him, Mr. 
Decker.” 

The farmer looked surprised. “ So I supposed by the 
row that was going on,” he said. “ Curious. I knew 
there were rats down to the barn, but I didn’t suppose 
they came up to the house. What became of him? ” 

“Slipped out of the door just now,” put in John 
Stumpy. “ There he goes ! ” he added, pointing out 
into the hall. 

Mr. Decker made a spring out of the room. 

“ I must ketch him, by gopher ! ” he cried. “ There’s 
enough eat up here now without having the vermin 
taking a hand in.” 

Mr. Woodward closed the door after the man. 

“Now see to what your actions have brought us,” 
he exclaimed. “If it hadn’t been for my quick wit 
we’d been in a pretty mess.” 

“Not my fault,” growled John Stumpy. “Why 
don’t you give up the statement?” 


116 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


I could not help but feel amused at his persistency. 
His demands upon the merchant were about on a foot- 
ing with those Mr. Woodward had made upon me. 

“ If you’ll only listen to reason,” began the merchant, 
“ I will prove — ” 

The rest of his remark was drowned out in a clap of 
thunder. Somewhat startled, 1 looked up at the sky. 

The black clouds in the south had rolled up rapidly, 
until now the entire horizon was covered. The first 
burst of thunder was succeeded directly by several 
others, and then large drops of rain began to fall. 

The wind blew the drops directly into the window. 
I crouched down out of sight, and the next moment 
Mr. Woodward said : — 

“It’s raining in the window. We’d better close it 
up.” 

Of course directly the window was closed I could 
hear no longer. I remained in my position for half 
a minute or more, and then as the rain began to pour 
down rapidly I made a break for better shelter. 

I sought the barn. It was a low, rambling structure, 
with great wide doors. No one seemed to be around, 
and I rushed in without ceremony. I was pretty fairly 
soaked, but as it was warm I did not mind the ducking. 
I shook out my hat and coat and then sat down to 
think matters over. 

What I had heard had not given me much satisfac- 
tion. To be sure, it had proved beyond a doubt that 


AN ODD STATEMENT 


117 


Mr. Aaron Woodward was a thorough scoundrel, but 
of this I had been already satisfied in my own mind. 

What was I to do ? I had asked myself that ques- 
tion several times, and now I asked it again. 

If only I could get John Stumpy arrested, perhaps 
it would be possible to force him to make a confession. 
But how was this to be done ? 

While I sat on the edge of a feed box, a form 
darkened the doorway, and Farmer Decker appeared. 

“ Hello ! ” he exclaimed. “ What are you doing here ? ” 

“I took the liberty to come in out of the rain,” I 
replied. “Have you any objections to my remaining 
until the shower is over ? ” 

“No, guess not. It’s a mighty heavy one. Where’re 
you from ? Newville ? ” 

“No, sir, Darby ville.” 

“Yes? Had quite a robbery down there, I under- 
stand.” 

“ Is that so ? ” 

“ Yes, a chap named Strong robbed an old woman of 
nearly five hundred dollars. Do you know him or the 
woman ? ” 

“ I know the woman quite well,” was my reply, and 
I hoped he would not question me further. 

“ They’ve got him in jail, I believe. The fellow and 
his sister tried to make out that a tramp had taken the 
money, but I understand no one would listen to the 
story.” 


118 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“No?” 

“No. It seems this Strong boy’s father is in jail 
now for stealing, so it ain’t strange the boy’s a 
thief.” 

“But maybe he isn’t guilty,” I put in, by way of a 
mild protest. 

“ Maybe. Of course it’s rather tough on him if he 
isn’t. But you can’t tell nowadays ; boys is so all-fired 
high toned, and want to play big fiddle.” 

“ Some boys are, but not all of them.” 

“ Some of them. Now there’s our landlord, who is 
in the house now, he’s got a son as extravagant as can 
be, and if it wasn’t for Mr. Woodward keeping him in 
funds I don’t know what that boy might not do. He 
— whoa, there, Billy, whoa ! ” 

The last remark was addressed to a horse standing 
in one of the stalls. A clap of thunder had set the 
animal to prancing. 

“ Your horse feels rather uneasy,” I remarked, glad 
of a chance to change the subject. 

“ Allers acts that way when there’s a storm going on* 
Too bad, too, for I want to hitch him up and take Mr. 
Woodward and another man that’s with him over to 
Darby ville.” 

As Mr. Decker spoke he led the horse from the stall 
and backed him up between the shafts of the carriage 
that stood near the rear of the barn. 

While he was hitching up I set myself to thinking. 


AN ODD STATEMENT 


119 


While I was perfectly willing that Mr. Woodward 
should return to Darbyville, I did not wish to allow 
John Stumpy out of my sight. Once away, and I 
might not be able to lay hands on him. 

Had I been sure that Kate had succeeded in finding 
the lost statement, I would not have cared, but the 
chances in her favor were slim, and I did not wish to 
run any risks. 

“Are you going to drive around to the house for 
them?” I asked as the farmer finished the job. 

“Guess I’ll have to. It will be a beastly drive. 
Sorry I can’t offer you a seat — it would be better than 
walking.” 

“ I think I’ll wait till it clears off,” I returned. “ I’m 
not on business, and — ” 

“ Say, Decker, how long is it going to take you to 
hitch up ? ” interrupted a voice from the doorway, and 
the next instant Mr. Woodward strode into the barn, 
followed by John Stumpy. 

I did not have time to conceal myself. I tried to 
step behind a partition, but before I could do so the 
merchant’s eye was on me. 

“ Roger Strong ! ” he exclaimed. 

“Yes, sir,” I replied, as boldly as I could. 

“ How did you get here ? ” he demanded. 

“Walked, just as you did.” 

“Thought you were in jail.” 

“ So do most people.” 


120 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“Who is this chap?” asked the farmer, staring at 
me with open eyes. 

“ It’s the boy who was arrested for that robbery last 
night,” explained the merchant. 

“ Shoo — you don’t say ? And I was talking to him 
about that very thing. You rascal, you ! ” 

“ How did you get out ? ” put in John Stumpy. 

“None of your business,” I replied briskly. “If 
you’d had your way I’d been burnt up in the tool 
house last night.” 

“No such thing,” was the tramp’s reply. “Never 
saw you before.” 

“You’re the fellow who stole the Widow Canby’s 
money.” 

“ You must be crazy, young fellow. I don’t know 
anything about the Widow Canby or her money.” 

“I can prove it. My sister can prove it, too.” 

“TJien your sister must be as crazy as yourself.” 

“ Stop there ! You’re the thief and you know it.” 

“ I know nothing of the kind.” 

“Your story is nonsensical, Strong,” broke in Mr. 
Woodward. “ Gentlemen like Mr. Stumpy here do not 
break into people’s houses and commit robberies.” 

“ Gentlemen ! He’s nothing but a tramp, and you 
know it.” 

“Tramp? How dare you?” cried Stumpy, in sud- 
denly assumed dignity, put on for the farmer’s benefit. 
“ I am a ranchero from Texas and an honest man. I 


AN ODD STATEMENT 


121 


am visiting Mr. Woodward, and know nothing more 
of the robbery excepting having heard that it oc- 
curred — ahem!” And John Stumpy drew him- 
self up. 

Under other circumstances I would have laughed at 
his effrontery. But the situation was too serious to 
indulge in any humor. 

‘•Being placed under arrest has turned your head, 
Strong,” said the merchant. “ You seem to be quite 
out of your mind.” 

“When was the robbery committed?” put in John 
Stumpy, suddenly. 

“ You know well enough,” I cried. 

“ I heard it was about two o’clock in the morning,” 
vouchsafed Farmer Decker. 

“ Then I can easily prove an alibi,” said the tramp, 
triumphantly. “ I can prove I was with my esteemed 
friend Mr. Woodward at that hour. Isn’t it so, 
Aaron?” 

The merchant hesitated. I fairly held my breath 
to catch his answer. Would he commit deliberate 
perjury? 

“ Quite true,” he replied slowly. “ Mr. Stumpy was 
with me last night. We sat up in the library, smoking, 
and playing cards until after midnight, and then I 
showed him to bed. He could not possibly have com- 
mitted the crime of which Strong speaks.” 

Then the boy must be the guilty one hisself,” said 


122 


TKUE TO HIMSELF 


the farmer. “ And so young, too. Who would 
a-thought it ! What shall we do with him, Mr. Wood- 
ward ? ” 

“ You had better help me take him back to Darby- 
ville jail,” responded the merchant. 


CHAPTER XYI 


MY UNCLE ENOS 

John Stumpy gave a smile of triumph. As for 
myself, I stood aghast. Mr. Aaron Woodward had 
committed deliberate perjury, or at least, something 
that amounted to the same thing. He had positively 
declared that John Stumpy was at his house at the 
time of the robbery of Widow Canby’s house, and 
could not, therefore, be the guilty party. 

It was easy to guess that in this statement it was 
his intention to screen his partner in iniquity. To be 
sure, he had been forced to take the position by Stumpy 
himself, but once having taken it, I was morally certain 
he would not back down. 

His action would make it harder than ever for me to 
clear myself and bring the tramp to justice. His word 
in a court of law would carry more weight than mine 
or my sister’s, and consequently our case would fall to 
the ground. 

I was glad that Dick Blair could testify concerning 
my whereabouts and the scene in the dining room 
directly after the robbery. The merchant knew noth- 
123 


124 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


in g of Blair’s presence on the occasion — at least I 
imagined so from his conversation — and might, by say- 
ing too much, “put his foot in it.” 

But now my mind was filled with only one thought. 
The three men intended to take me to the Darbyville 
jail. I was to be ignominiously dragged back to the 
prison from which I had escaped. 

Once again in Ezekiel Booth’s custody I was certain 
he would keep so strict a guard over me that further 
breaking away would be out of the question. Perhaps 
Judge Penfold would consider me so dangerous a 
prisoner as to send me to the county jail for safe 
keeping, in which case it would be harder than ever 
for me to clear myself or see Kate. 

For an instant I meditated taking to my legs and 
running my chances, but this idea was knocked in the 
head by Farmer Decker grasping me by the collar. 

“ Maybe he might take a notion and run away,” he 
explained. “He did it once, you say.” 

“A good idea to hold him,” said Mr. Woodward. 
“ Have you finished hitching up ? ” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ Have you room for him ? ” 

“ I might put in another seat.” 

“ Do so. And hurry ; the rain has slackened up a bit, 
and we may reach Darbyville before it starts again.” 

The extra seat was soon placed in the carriage. 
Then the farmer procured a couple of rubber blankets. 


MY UNCLE ENOS 


125 


“ All ready now,” he said. “ How shall we sit ? ” 

“You and Mr. Stumpy sit in front. I and the boy 
will occupy the back seat. Come, Strong, get in.” 

For an instant I thought of refusing. The mer- 
chant had no right to order me. But then I reflected 
that a refusal would do no good, and might do harm, 
so without a word I entered the carriage. 

The others were not slow to follow. Then Farmer 
Decker chirruped to Billy, and we rolled out of the 
farm yard and down the road. 

But little was said on the way. I was busy with my 
own thoughts, and so were Mr. W oodward and Stumpy. 
The farmer asked several questions, but the merchant 
said he would learn all he wished to know at the 
judge’s office, and this quieted him. 

About five o’clock in the afternoon we rolled into 
Darby ville. While crossing the Pass River the sun 
had burst through the clouds, and now all was as 
bright and fresh as ever. 

Judge Penf old’s office was situated in the centre of 
the principal business block. When we arrived there 
we found a number of men standing about the door, no 
doubt discussing my escape, for they uttered many 
exclamations of surprise on seeing me. 

Chief among them was Parsons, who looked pale and 
worried. 

“ Roger Strong ! ” he exclaimed. “ Where have you 
been? ” 


126 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“Took a walk for my health,” I replied as lightly as 
I could, though my heart was heavy. 

“Well, I guess we’ll make sure it shan’t happen 
again,” he returned. “ Hi, there, Booth ! Here’s 
your prisoner come back ! ” 

In a moment the carpenter appeared upon the scene. 

“You rascal, you!” he cried in angry tones. “A 
fine peck of trouble you’ve got yourself into ! ” 

“What’s all this about?” asked a heavy voice from 
the stairs, and Judge Penfold stood before me. 

“ I have brought your prisoner back, judge,” replied 
Mr. Woodward. 

“So I see. Well, Strong, what have you to say for 
yourself? Do you know breaking jail is a serious 
offence ? ” 

“I don’t know anything about it. I know I was 
locked up for nothing at all, and I escaped at the first 
chance offered.” 

“ There was no chance offered at all, judge,” broke 
in Booth, fearful of having a reflection cast upon his 
character.* “ He just went and ripped the hull floor 
up, that’s what he did.” 

“ Silence, Booth ! Come upstairs and we will hear 
the particulars.” 

In a moment we were in Judge Penf old’s office. I 
was told to take a seat on a bench, with Booth on one 
side of me and Parsons on the other. 

Then Mr. Woodward introduced John Stumpy as a 


MY UNCLE ENOS 


127 


friend from San Antohio, Texas, and the two told their 
story, corroborated at its end by Farmer Decker, who 
trembled from head to foot at the idea of addressing as 
high a dignitary as Judge Penfold. 

“What have you to say to this, Strong?” I was 
asked. 

In a plain, straightforward way I told my story from 
beginning to end, told it in a manner that did not fail 
to impress nearly every one in the court-room but the 
judge and my accusers. 

Of course Mr. Woodward and John Stumpy stoutly 
denied all I said, and their denial carried the 
day. 

“Until we can have a real trial I will send you 
back to jail,” said Judge Penfold. 

“Why don’t you send John Stumpy to jail, too?” I 
asked. “ He is as much accused as I.” 

“We have only your word for that.” 

“Then let me send for my sister Kate and Dick 
Blair.” 

Judge Penfold rubbed his chin reflectively. 

“ I think I’ll have to put you under bonds,” he said 
to John Stumpy. 

“ Why so ? The boy’s word doesn’t amount to any- 
thing,” put in Mr. Woodward. 

•“Only a matter of form, Mr. Woodward. I will 
make it a thousand dollars. Will you go his bonds- 
man?” 


128 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“Of course he will,” said John Stumpy, hastily. 
“Won’t you?” 

The merchant winced. “I — I guess so,” he stam- 
mered. “ But it’s a strange proceeding.” 

In a few moments, by the aid of two other men, the 
bond was made out. 

“ I will make your bail a thousand dollars also,” said 
Judge Penfold, turning to me. “I suppose it’s quite 
useless though,” he added sarcastically. 

“Not quite so useless as you might think,” exclaimed 
a hearty voice from the rear of the court-room. 

I thought I recognized the tones, and turned hastily. 
There beside my sister Kate stood my uncle, Enos Moss, 
of whom I have already spoken. 

He was a grizzly bearded sea-captain of seventy, with 
manner and speech suggestive of the brine. 

Breaking from Parsons and Booth, I ran to meet him. 
He shook both my hands and then clapped me on the 
shoulder. 

“Cast up on a lee shore, are you, Roger?” he ex- 
claimed. “ And the wind a-blowing a hurricane.” 

“ Yes, I am,” I replied, “ and I’m mighty glad you’ve 
come, Uncle Enos.” 

“ Just dropped anchor in time,” he went on. “ Judge 
Penfold, do you remember me?” 

“ You are Carson Strong’s brother-in-law, I believe?” 
replied the judge. 

“ You’ve hit it. Captain Enos Moss, part owner and 


MY UNCLE ENOS 


129 


sailing master of the Hattie Baker, as trim a craft as 
ever rounded the Horn. Been away for three years, 
and now on shore to stay.” 

44 You’re not going on any more voyages ? ” I queried. 

“ No, my hearty. I’ve made enough to keep me, and 
I’m getting too old to walk the quarter-deck. Besides, 
I’ve heard of your father’s troubles from Kate, and I 
reckon they need sounding.” 

“ Indeed they do.” 

“Well, now about your difficulty. A thousand- 
dollar bond, eh. It’s pretty stiff, but I guess I can 
stand it.” 

“ Thank you, sir,” was all I could say. 

“ Don’t say a word. Didn’t your father put in a 
good word for me when I was a-courting your aunt 
that’s dead and gone — God bless her ! Indeed, he 
did ! And I’ll stand by you, Roger, no matter how 
hard the gale blows.” 

“ Then you don’t think I’m guilty ? ” 

“What! a lad with your bearing a thief? Not 
much. The people in this village must be asleep — 
not to know better’n that?” 

“Ahem!” coughed Judge Penfold, sternly. He 
considered my uncle’s remarks decidedly impertinent. 
“ Are you able to go his bail ? ” he asked. 

“Reckon I am. I’ve just deposited ten thousand 
dollars in the bank here, and I’ve got twenty and 
more in New York. How will you have it — in cash?” 


130 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“A conditional check, certified, will do,” replied 
Judge Penfold, shortly. 

What he meant had to be explained, and then we all 
went to the banker’s office. My uncle’s account was 
found to be as he had stated, and about ten minutes 
later my bond was signed and I was at liberty to go 
where I pleased until called upon to appear. 

Mr. Aaron Woodward and John Stumpy apparently 
did not relish the turn affairs had taken. But I paid 
no attention to them, and the business over, I hurried 
off with my sister and my newly arrived uncle. 

“ Did you find the statement ? ” I asked of Kate, as 
soon as we were out of hearing of the crowd. 

“No, Roger, I looked and looked, but it wasn’t any- 
where, either at the tool house or on the way to Judge 
Penf old’s.” 

“ Have you heard from Mrs. Canby yet ? ” 

“Yes, she is coming home.” 

“ Does she blame me for what has happened ? ” 

“ She doesn’t say.” 

“Never mind, Roger. We’ll stick up for you,” put 
in Uncle Enos, kindly. 

I was considerably disturbed. What if Mrs. Canby 
should consider me at fault? 

As we drew near to the cottage, I saw a lady stand- 
ing by the gate, watching our approach. It was the 
Widow Canby. 


CHAPTER XVII 


A SUDDEN RESOLVE 

My heart beat rapidly as I walked up to the gate. 
How would the good lady who had done so much for 
Kate and myself receive me ? 

An unkind word or an unfavorable insinuation from 
her would have hurt me worse than a thousand from any 
one else. She had been so generous that to have her turn 
would have made me feel as if I had lost my last friend 
on earth. 

But as she had taken me in before when others had 
cast me out, so she now proved the friend in need. 

“So they’ve thought better of it and set you free, 
Roger ? ” she said as I hurried up. 

“ Yes, Mrs. Canby,” I returned. “ I hope — I hope — ” 
I began, and then came to a full stop. 

“ What ? ” and she caught my hand. 

“ I hope you don’t think I had anything to do with 
the robbery,” I stammered. 

“No, Roger, I don’t. I think you’re an honest boy, 
and I’ve got to have more proof against you than I’ve 
heard yet before I’ll believe otherwise.” 

“ Thank you, ma’am, oh, thank you ! ” I blurted out, 
131 


132 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


and the tears started to my eyes and rolled down my 
cheeks. 

The events of which I am writing occurred several 
years ago, but I am not ashamed of those tears. They 
were the outcome of long-pent-up feelings, and I could 
not hold them back. My sister cried, too, and the 
Widow Canby and Uncle Enos looked very much as if 
they wished to join in. 

“ I knew you wouldn’t think Roger did it,” cried 
Kate. 44 1 said all along you wouldn’t, though every- 
body said you would.” 

44 Folks don’t appear to know me very well,” returned 
Widow Canby, with a bit of grim humor in her tone. 
44 1 don’t always think as others do. Come into the 
house and give me full particulars. Who is this man ? 
Why, really ! Captain Moss, I believe ? ” 

44 Yes, ma’am, Captain Moss — Roger’s uncle, at your 
service,” replied he, taking off his cap and bowing low. 
“I thought you’d remember me. Your husband as 
was once sailed to Boston with me.” 

44 Oh, yes, I remember you. Will you come in ? ” 

44 Thank you, reckon I will. I have no home now, 
and hotels is scarce in Darby ville. I only arrived this 
noon, and I’ve been with Kate ever since. I must hunt 
up a boarding-house to stay at. Do you know of any 
close at hand ? ” 

44 Perhaps I do. Let us talk of that later on. I 
want to hear Roger’s story first.” 


A SUDDEN RESOLVE 


133 


“Just as you say, ma’am. Only I must get a 
place to stop at to-night.” 

“You shall be provided for, Captain Moss. I have 
a spare room.” 

“You are very kind to an old sea-dog like myself, 
Mrs. Canby,” said Uncle Enos. 

The widow led the way into the dining room. The 
lamp was already lighted, and while my sister Kate 
busied herself with preparing supper, Mrs. Canby and 
my uncle sat down to listen to my story. 

For the first time I told it with all the details that 
concerned myself, — how I had been waylaid by the 
Models, how Dick Blair had released me, what Stumpy 
had done at the tool house, and all, not forgetting 
about the statement Kate and I wished so much to 
find. 

The Widow Canby and my uncle listened with close 
attention until I had finished. 

“ It’s a strange story, Roger,” said the widow, at its 
conclusion. “ One hard to believe. But I know you 
tell the truth.” 

“What a rascal this Woodward must be ! ” broke in 
my uncle. “ He’s a far greater villain in his way than 
this John Stumpy. I am strongly inclined to figure 
that you’re right, and he is the one that ran your 
father up on a lee shore.” 

“ I don’t think father did a single thing that was 
wrong — that is, knowingly,” I returned. “ If he did 


134 


TKUE TO HIMSELF 


do wrong, I’m sure Mr. Woodward made it appear as 
if it was all right.” 

“No doubt, no doubt. If you could only get to the 
bottom of this Weaver’s statement.” 

“ And when is this trial to come off ? ” put in Mrs. 
Canby. “ Really I don’t see what good it will do me 
if this man has lost the money.” 

“ I’d like to find that, too,” I returned. 

Presently Kate announced that supper was ready, 
and we all sat down. The widow said that she had 
found her sister much better, and on receiving Kate’s 
letter had started for her home at once. The loss of 
the money did not disturb her as much as I had antici- 
pated, and as every one was hungry, the meal passed 
off tolerably well. 

When we had nearly finished there was a knock on 
the door, and Kate admitted Mr. Woodward’s errand 
boy. He had a note for me. It contained but a single 
sentence : — 

“ Please call at my house this evening about nine o’clock.” 

I read the note over with interest, and then informed 
the others of what it contained. 

“ Shall you go ? ” asked Kate, anxiously. 

“I suppose I might.” 

“ Maybe it’s a plot,” suggested the widow. 

“Might waylay you,” added Uncle Enos. “A man 
like him is liable to do ’most anything.” 


A SUDDEN KESOLVE 


135 


“ I don’t think he would dare do me any bodily 
injury,” I replied. 44 He would know I had told some 
one where I was going, and that my absence would be 
noticed.” 

44 If you go, take me in tow,” said my uncle. “I 
needn’t go in with you, but I can hang around outside, 
and if anything goes wrong, all you’ve got to do is to 
holler like all creation, and I’ll come to the rescue.” 

44 Oh, if Roger runs any risk, I’d rather he wouldn’t 
go,” exclaimed Kate, in alarm. 

44 1 don’t think the risk is very great,” I returned. 
44 Besides, I may find the missing statement. That is 
worth trying for.” 

44 1 shall be in dread until you return,” she replied, 
with a grave shake of her head. 

44 When will you start ? ” asked Uncle Enos. 

44 About half past eight. It won’t take over half an 
hour to reach his house.” 

We continued to discuss Mr. Woodward for some 
time, and also the action of the Models and what I should 
do on their score. My Uncle Enos was for prosecuting 
them, but the Widow Canby said that the future would 
bring its own punishment, and on this we rested. 

“And now about my board,” began Uncle Enos, 
during a dull in the conversation. 44 1 must find a 
boarding-house for after to-night.” 

“Wouldn’t you like to stay with the children?” 
asked Mrs. Canby. 


136 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“ Yes, ma’am ; indeed I would. To tell the truth, 
it’s my intention sooner or later to offer them a home 
with me.” 

“ I should hate to have them leave me,” returned the 
widow, quickly. 

“I suppose so.” 

“ How would you like to board with me ? As I have 
said, there is lots of room, and you have just eaten 
a sample meal. We do not live in style — but — ” 

“Plenty good enough style,” interrupted Captain 
Enos, “and better grub then we had on the Hattie 
Baker , I’ll be bound. I’d like it first rate here if the 
terms wasn’t too high.” 

“ What do you think fair ? ” 

“I’m sure I don’t know, ma’am. I haven’t paid a 
week’s board in three years.” 

“ Would five dollars a week be too much ? ” 

“ No, ma’am. Are you sure it’s enough ? I don’t 
want to crowd your hospitality.” 

“ I’d be satisfied with five dollars. Of course 
boarders are out of my line, but there are exceptions 
to all cases. Besides, I’ll feel safer with another man 
about the house. No reflection on you, Roger, but you 
won’t always be here together.” 

“No, ma’am,” replied my uncle. “I must visit my 
brother-in-law at the prison — that will take several 
days.” 

“ Will you take me with you ? ” asked Kate, eagerly. 


A SUDDEN RESOLVE 


137 


“ Certainly, and you, too, Roger, if you want to go.” 

“ I would like to very much,” was my reply. “ But 
I want to ask even a bigger favor than that, Uncle 
Enos.” 

• “ Yes ? ” 

“ Yes, sir. You may think it a good deal, but you’ve 
been so kind, and I haven’t any one else to go to.” 

“ W ell, what is it, my boy ? I’ll do it if I can.” 

“ Lend me about fifty dollars.” 

My Uncle Enos raised his eyebrows in surprise. 

“ Fifty dollars ? ” he repeated. 

“Yes, sir. That is, if you can spare it. I’ll promise 
to pay it back some day.” 

“ And what do you intend to do with it ? ” 

“ I want to go to Chicago, sir.” 

“ To Chicago ? ” 

All three of my listeners repeated the words in 
chorus ; then Captain Enos continued : — 

“ And what are you going to do there ? ” 

“ I want to hunt up this Holtzmann, and find out 
what he knows about my father’s affairs. I’m satisfied 
that he is as deep in it as Mr. Woodward or John 
Stumpy, and if I can only by some means get him to 
tell what he knows, I may accomplish a good deal.” 

My Uncle Enos put his hand upon my shoulder. 
“Well, Roger, you’re a brave boy, and I’ll trust you. 
You shall have fifty dollars, and a hundred, if you want 
it, to do as you think best. Only don’t get into trouble.” 


138 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“ Thank you, Uncle Enos, thank you ! ” I cried 
heartily. “ Some day I’ll pay you back.” 

“I don’t want it back, my lad. If you can catch 
any proofs that will help clear your father, I shall be 
more than satisfied.” 

“ And when shall you go ? ” asked Kate. 

“ I don’t know. It will depend on my interview 
with Mr. Woodward and also on what John Stumpy 
does. Not inside of several days, at least. Besides, 
we want to see father first, you know.” 

“Of course.” 

“We can go to Trenton tomorrow,” said Uncle 
Enos. At Trenton was located the State prison. 
After consulting a time table printed in the Darbyville 
Record, we found we could catch a train for that city 
at 8.25 from Newville the next morning, and this we 
decided to take. 

Having settled this matter, we returned again to the 
discussion of the incidents surrounding the robbery, 
and what would probably be the next movements of 
those fighting against me. Uncle Enos grew greatly 
interested, and said he knew a lawyer in New York 
who might secure some good private detective who 
could take the case in hand. 

Finally it came half past eight, and putting on my 
hat, I started for Mr. Woodward’s residence. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


IN MR. WOODWARD’S LIBRARY 

Though outwardly calm, I was considerably agitated 
as I walked to Darbyville. Why the merchant had 
sent for me I could not surmise. Of course it was on 
account of the robbery, but so far as I knew both of us 
had taken a separate stand, and neither would turn 
back. I thought it barely possible that he wished to 
intimidate me into receding from my position. He was 
as much of a bully in his way as Duncan, and would 
not hesitate to use every means in his power to bring 
me to terms. 

Arriving at Mr. Woodward’s house, I ascended the 
steps and rang the bell. 

“Is Mr. Woodward in?” I asked of the girl who 
answered the summons. 

“ I’ll see, sir,” she replied. “ Who shall I say it is ? ” 

“Roger Strong.” 

The girl left me standing in the hall. While wait- 
ing for her return I could not help but remember the 
old lines : — 

“ ‘ Will you walk into my parlor? * 

Said the spider to the fly.” 

139 


140 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


But if I was walking into the spider’s parlor, it would 
be my own fault if I got hurt, for I was entering with 
my eyes open. I determined to be on my guard, and 
take nothing for granted. 

“Mr. Woodward will be pleased to see you in his 
library,” said the girl upon her return, and then, hav- 
ing indicated the door, she vanished down the back 
hall. 

As I put my hand upon the door-knob, I heard steps 
upon the stairs, and looking up saw Duncan Woodward 
descending. 

His face was still swollen from the punishment I had 
inflicted upon him. Nevertheless, he was faultlessly 
dressed in full evening costume, and I rightly con- 
jectured he was going to spend the night in some 
fashionable dissipation such as dancing or card-playing. 

“ Hello ! how did you get in here ? ” he exclaimed. 

“ Was let in,” was my mild reply, not caring to pick 
a quarrel with him. 

“Was, eh ? And what for, I’d like to know ? ” 

“That’s your father’s business, Duncan.” 

“ Don’t Duncan me any more, Roger Strong. What’s 
my father’s business?” 

“ What I came for. He sent for me.” 

“ Oh, he did. Reckon he’s going to square accounts 
with you.” 

“ I don’t know what accounts he’s going to square,” 
I went on in curiosity. 


IN MR. WOODWARD’S LIBRARY 


141 


“ Didn’t you as much as try to intimate he was 
lying — down in Judge Penf old’s court this afternoon ? ” 

“ I only told what I knew to be the truth,” I replied 
calmly. 

“ The truth. Humph ! I believe you took the 
widow’s money yourself.” 

“Take care what you’re saying,” I replied angrily. 
“ I don’t propose to stand any such talk from you.” 

Duncan grew speechless. “ Why, you — you — ” he 
began. 

“ Hold up now before you say something that you’ll 
be sorry for. This is your house, but you have no 
right to insult me in it.” 

“ Quite right, Strong, quite right.” The library 
door had opened, and Mr. Woodward stood upon the 
threshold, gazing sharply at his son. “ Strong is here 
upon my invitation, Duncan ; you ought to treat him 
with more politeness,” he added. 

If DunCan was amazed at this speech, so was I. The 
merchant taking my part? What did it mean? 

“ Why, I — I — ” began Duncan, but he could really 
get no further. 

“No explanation is necessary,” interrupted his father, 
coolly. 

“Strong, please step in, will you?” 

“ Yes, sir,” and I suited the action to the word. 

As I did so Duncan passed on to the front d&or. 

“I’ll get even with you yet, you cad ! ” he muttered 


142 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


under his breath *, but I paid no attention to his words. 
I had “bigger fish to fry.” 

Once inside of Mr. Woodward’s library, the mer- 
chant closed the door behind me and then invited me 
to take a seat beside his desk, at the same time throw- 
ing himself back in his easy chair. 

“I suppose you thought it rather singular that I 
should send for you,” he said by way of an opening. 

“ Yes, sir, I did,” was all I could reply. 

“ I thought as much. It was only an impulse of 
mine, sir, only an impulse. I wished to see if we can- 
not arrange this — this little difficulty without publicity. 
I would rather lose a good deal, yes, sir, a good deal, 
than have my name dragged into court.” 

“ All I ask is for justice,” I replied calmly. “ I am 
under arrest for a crime of which I am innocent. On 
the other hand, you are trying to shield a man I know 
is guilty.” 

I expected a storm of indignation from Mr Wood- 
ward because of the last remark. Yet he showed no 
sign of resentment. 

“Don’t you think you might be mistaken in your 
identification of Mr. Stumpy?” he replied, and I 
noticed that again he nearly stumbled in pronouncing 
the tramp’s name. 

“No, sir,” I replied promptly. 

“ Remember that you saw him only by lantern light, 
and then but for a few minutes.” 


IN MR. WOODWARD’S LIBRARY 


143 


“I saw him by daylight as well.” 

“ When?” 

“In the morning. He came as a beggar.” 

“A beggar? Impossible!” The merchant held up 
his hands in assumed amazement. “ Why, Strong, the 
idea of Mr. Stumpy begging is ridiculous.” 

“Just the same it is true, Mr. Woodward. And 
what is more, he is the thief, and you know it.” 

“ That’s a strong assertion to make, sir, a very strong 
assertion.” 

“Nevertheless, I believe I can prove my words.” 

Mr. Woodward turned slightly pale. 

“ You can prove no such thing,” he cried. 

“Yes, I can. Didn’t Stumpy admit he had taken 
the money ? ” 

“ Never, sir.” 

“ He did.” 

“ When?” 

“ This afternoon while you were at Decker’s place.” 

Had I slapped the merchant in the face he would not 
have been more surprised. He sprang to his feet and 
glared at me. 

“You — you — Who says he made such an admis- 
sion?” . 

“I say so.” 

“Ah! I see, you were spying on us. You rascal ! ” 

“ It strikes me that you are the rascal,” I returned. 
“ You try deliberately to shield a thief.” 


144 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“ What!” 

“ Yes, it’s true.” 

“ Can you prove it?” 

Mr. Woodward asked the question sneeringly, but 
there was much of curiosity in his tones. 

“Perhaps I can.” 

The merchant pulled his mustache nervously. 

“ Strong, you are greatly mistaken. But don’t let 
us quarrel any more.” 

“ I don’t want to quarrel.” 

“ I feel badly over the whole affair, and Mr. Stumpy 
is fairly sick. I suppose you think you are right, but 
you are mistaken. Now I have a proposition to make 
to you.” Mr. Woodward leaned forward in his chair. 
“Suppose you admit that you are mistaken — that Mr. 
Stumpy is not the man ? Do this, and I will not prose- 
cute you for having taken my papers.” 

I was surprised and indignant; surprised that Mr. 
Woodward should still insist upon my having taken 
his papers, and indignant because of his outrageous 
offer. 

“Mr. Woodward,” I began firmly, “you can prose- 
cute me or not ; Stumpy is the guilty man, and I shall 
always stick to it.” 

“ Then you will go to jail, too.” 

“ For the last time let me say I have not seen your 
papers.” 

“ It is false. You took them from this room last 


IN MR. WOODWARD’S LIBRARY 


145 


night. At the very time you pretend you were after 
the robber at Mrs. Canby’s house you were here ran- 
sacking my desk.” 

“Mr. Woodward — ” 

“There is no use in denying it. I have abundant 
proofs. The girl who cleaned up here this morning 
found a handkerchief with your name on it lying on 
the floor. If you weren’t here, how did that come 
here?” 

“ My handkerchief ? ” 

“ Yes, sir, your handkerchief ; and Mary O’Brien can 
identify it and tell where she found it.” 

“ Some one else must have had it,” I stammered, and 
then suddenly: “I know who the party is — Duncan.” 

“Duncan ! ” 

“Yes, sir. He took that handkerchief away from 
me when the Models waylaid me ! ” 

“ My son ! Really, Strong, you are mad ! But I 
will take you in hand, sir; yes, indeed, I will.” 

“No, you won’t, Aaron Woodward!” I cried, for 
once letting my temper get the better of me. “You 
are awfully cunning, but I am not afraid of you. I am 
willing to have all these matters sifted to the bottom, 
and the sooner the better. What papers have you 
missed? Were they the ‘ones that Holtzmann of Chi- 
cago is after? How is it that my father is in prison 
while you live in style on money you never earned? 
Who is the relative that left it to you? Did you ever 


146 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


make a clear statement concerning the transactions 
that took away my father’s honest name ? ” 

“Stop! Stop!” 

“I will not stop! You want an investigation; so 
do I. Luckily my uncle, Captain Enos Moss, has just 
returned from a voyage. He has quite some money, 
and I know he will use it to bring the guilty parties to 
justice. And then — ” 

I did not finish. Mr. Woodward had strode over to 
the door and locked it, putting the key in his pocket. 

“ You know too much, Strong,” he muttered between 
his set teeth, as he caught me by the collar ; “ too much 
entirely. We must come to a settlement before you 
leave this room.” 


CHAPTER XIX 


A CLEVER RUSE 

I must confess I was frightened when Mr. Wood- 
ward locked the door of his library and caught me by 
the collar. Was it possible that he contemplated doing 
me physical harm? It looked that way. 

I was not accustomed to such rough treatment, and 
I resented it instantly. I was not very large for my 
age, but I was strong, and ducking my head I wrenched 
myself free from his grasp and sprang to the other side 
of the small table that stood in the centre of the room. 

“ What do you mean by treating me in this man- 
ner ! ” I cried. “ Unlock that door at once ! ” 

“Not much, sir,” replied Mr. Woodward, vehemently. 
“ You’ve made some remarkable statements, young man, 
and I demand a clear explanation before you leave.” 

“Well, you demand too much, Aaron Woodward,” I 
replied firmly. “ Unlock that door.” 

“Not just yet. I want to know what you know of 
Holtzmann of Chicago ? ” 

“ You won’t learn by treating me in this manner,” 
was my determined reply. “ Unlock that door, or, take 
my word for it, I’ll arouse the whole neighborhood.” 

147 


148 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“You’ll do nothing of the kind, young man,” he 
rejoined. 

“I will.” 

“ Make the least disturbance and you shall pa} 
dearly for it. Understand, sir, I’m not to be trifled 
with/* 

“ And I’m not to be frightened into submission,” I 
returned with spirit. “ I have a right to leave when I 
please and I shall do so.” 

“Not till I am ready,” said he, coolly. 

I was nonplussed and alarmed — nonplussed over 
the question of how to get away, and alarmed at the 
thought of what might happen if I was compelled to 
remain. 

I began to understand Mr. Aaron Woodward’s true 
character. Like Duncan, he was not only a bully, 
but also a brute. Words having failed, he was now 
evidently going to see what physical force could 
accomplish. 

“Forewarned is forearmed” is an old saying, and 
now I applied it to myself. In other words, I prepared 
for an encounter. On the centre table lay a photo- 
graph album. It was thick and heavy and capable of 
proving quite a formidable article of defence. I picked 
it up, and stepping behind a large easy chair, stood on 
my guard. 

Seeing the action, the merchant paused. 

“ What are going to do with that ? ” he asked. 


A CLEVER RUSE 


149 


“You’ll see if you keep on,” I replied. “I don’t 
intend to stand this much longer. You had better open 
the door.” 

“ You think you’re a brainy boy, Strong,” he sneered. 

“ I’ve got too much brain to let you ride over me.” 

“ You think you have a case against me and Mr. 
Stumpy, and you intend to drag it into court and make 
a great fuss over it,” he went on. 

“ I’m going to get back my father’s honest name.” 

“ What you mean is that you intend to drag my 
name in the mire,” he stormed. 

“ You can have it so, if you please.” 

“ I shall not allow it. You, a young upstart ! ” 

“ Take care, Mr. Woodward ! ” 

“ Do you think I will submit to it ? ” He glared at 
me and threw a hasty glance around the room. “Not 
much ! ” 

Suddenly he stepped to the windows and pulled 
down the shades. Then he took out his watch and 
looked at the time. I wondered what he was up to 
now. I was not long in finding out. 

“ Listen to me,” he said in a low, intense tone. “We 
are alone in this house — you and I — and will be for 
half an hour or more. You are in my power. What 
will you do ? Give up all the papers you possess and 
promise to keep silent about what you know or take 
the consequences.” 

It would be telling an untruth to say I was not 


150 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


thoroughly startled by the merchant’s sudden change 
of manner. He was about to assault me, that was 
plain to see, and he wished me to understand that no 
one was near either to assist me or to bear witness 
against his dark doings. 

I must fight my own battles, not only in a war of 
words, but also in a war of blows. I was not afraid 
after the first shock was oyer. My cause was a just 
one, and I would stand by it, no matter what the con- 
sequences might be. 

“I don’t fear you, Aaron Woodward,” I replied, as 
steadily as I could. “ I am in the right and shall stick 
up for it, no matter what comes.” 

“ You defy me ? ” he cried in a rage. 

“Yes, I do.” 

I had hardly uttered the words before he # caught up 
a heavy cane standing beside his desk and made for 
me. There was a wicked determination in his eyes, 
and I could see that all the evil passions within him 
were aroused. 

“We’ll see who is master here,” he went on. 

“ Stand back ! ” I cried. “ Don’t come a step nearer ! 
If you do, you’ll be sorry for it ! ” 

He paid no attention to my warning, but kept on 
advancing, raising the cane over his head as he did so. 

When he was within three feet of me he aimed a 
blow at my head. Had he hit me, I am certain he 
would have cracked my skull open. 



“ Stop, stop ! ” roared Mr. Woodward. — Page 151 






A CLEVER RUSE 


151 


But I was too quick for him. I dodged, and the 
cane struck the back of the chair. 

Before he could recover from his onslaught I hurled 
the album at him with all force. It struck him full in 
the face, and must have loosened several of his teeth, 
for he put his hand up to his mouth as he reeled over 
backward. 

I was not astonished. I had accomplished just what 
I had set out to do. My one thought now was to make 
my escape. How was it to be done ? 

The key to the door was in the merchant’s pocket, 
and this I could not obtain. The windows were closed, 
and the blinds drawn down. 

I had but an instant to think. Spluttering td 
himself, my assailant was endeavoring to rise to his 
feet. 

A hasty glance around the room revealed a door 
partly hidden by a curtain next the mantelpiece. 
Where it led to I did not know, but concluding that 
any place would be better than to remain in the library, 
I tried the door, found it open, and slipped out. 

“Stop, stop!” roared Mr. Woodward. “ Stop, this 
instant ! ” 

But I did not stop. I found myself in the dining 
room, and at once put the long table between us. 

“ Don’t you come any nearer,” I called out sharply. 
“ If you do, it may be at the cost of your life.” 

As I spoke I picked up a fancy silver knife that lay 


152 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


on the table. It had a rough resemblance to a pocket 
pistol, and gave me the idea of palming it off as such. 

“Would you shoot me?” cried the merchant, in sud- 
den terror, as he saw what he supposed was the barrel 
of a revolver pointed at his head. 

“ Why shouldn’t I ? ” was the reply. “ You have no 
right to detain me.” 

“ I don’t want to detain you. I only want to come 
to a settlement,” he returned lamely. 

“ And I want nothing more to do with you. I’ll give 
you one minute to show me the way to tfie front door.” 

“ Yes, but, Strong — ” 

“No more talk, if you please. Do you intend to 
khow me the way out, or shall I fire?” 

Then Mr. Aaron Woodward showed what a coward 
lie really was. He gave a cry of horror amd sank com- 
pletely out of sight. 

“Don’t shoot, Strong. I pray you, take care. I’ll 
show you the way out, indeed I will ! ” 

“Well, hurry about it. I don’t intend to stand any 
more nonsense.” 

“ Here, this way. Please stop pointing that pistol at 
me ; it might go off, you know.” 

“ Then the sooner you show me the way out, the better 
for you,” I returned coolly, inwardly amused at his sud- 
den change of manner 

“This way, then. I — I trust you will keep this — 
this little meeting of ours a secret.” 


A CLEVER RUSE 


153 


“Why should I?” 

“ Because it — it would do no good to have it made 
public.” 

“ I’ll see about it,” was my reply. 

By this time we had reached the front door, and 
with unwilling hands the merchant opened it, 

“Now stand aside and let me pass,” I commanded. 

“ I will. But, Strong — ” 

“ No more words are needed,” I returned. “ I have 
had enough of you, Mr. Aaron Woodward. The next 
time you hear from me it will be in quite a different 
shape.” 

“What do you mean ? ” he cried, in sudden alarm. 

“ You will find out soon enough. In the meantime 
let me return your fancy knife. I have no further 
use for it.” 

I tossed the article over. He looked at it and then 
at me. Clearly he was mad enough to “chew me up.” 
Bidding him a mocking good night, I ran down the 
steps and hurried away. 


CHAPTER XX 


AT THE PRISON 

Mr. Woodward’s actions had aroused me as I had 
never been aroused before. My eyes were wide open 
at last. I realized that if I ever expected to gain our 
family rights I must fight for them — and fight unflinch- 
ingly to the bitter end. 

It was nearly ten o’clock when I reached the Widow 
Canby’s house. I met my Uncle Enos on the porch. 
He had grown impatient, and was about to start for 
Darbyville in search of me. 

In the dining room I told my story. All laughed 
heartily at the ruse I had played upon the merchant, 
but were indignant at the treatment I had received. 

“Wish I’d been with you,” remarked my uncle, with 
a vigorous shake of his head. “ I’d a-smashed in his 
figurehead, keelhaul me if I wouldn’t ! ” 

“ What do you intend to do now? ” asked Kate. 

“ Let’s see ; to-day is Friday. If you will take us to 
Trenton to-morrow, Uncle Enos, I’ll start for Chicago 
on Monday.” 

“Don’t you think you had better have this Wood- 
ward arrested first ? ” asked Captain Enos. 

154 


AT THE PRISON 


155 


“No; I would rather let him think that for the 
present I had dropped the whole matter. It may 
throw him off his guard and enable me to pick up 
more clews against him.” 

“ That’s an idea. Roger, you’ve got a level head on 
your shoulders, and we can’t do any better than follow 
your advice,” returned my uncle. 

I did but little sleeping that night. For a long time 
I lay awake thinking over my future actions. Then 
when I did fall into a doze my rest was broken by 
dreams of the fire at the tool house and Mr. Wood- 
ward’s attack. 

I was up at five o’clock in the morning, attending to 
the regular chores. I did not know who would do 
them during my absence, and as soon as the widow 
appeared I spoke to her on the subject. 

“ Your uncle mentioned the matter last night,” said 
Mrs. Canby. “ He said he would do all that was 
required until you came back. He doesn’t want to 
remain idle all day, and thought the work would just 
suit him.” 

This was kind of Uncle Enos, and I told him so when 
an hour later he appeared, dressed in his best, his trunk 
having arrived the evening before. 

“ Yes, Roger, I’d rather do it than sit twirling my 
thumbs, a-waiting for you to come back,” said he. “ I 
used to do such work years ago, before I shipped on the 
Anna Siegel , and to do it again will make me feel like 


156 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


a boy once more. But come ; let’s go to mess and then 
hoist anchor and away.” 

A few minutes later we were at breakfast. Then I 
put on my good clothes and brought around the horse 
and carriage, for the Widow Canby insisted upon driv- 
ing us down to Newville by way of Darby ville just to 
show folks, as she said, that she had not lost confidence 
in me. 

Kate was m a flutter of excitement. She had wished 
to see my father every day since he had been taken 
away. As for myself, I was fully as impatient. My 
father was very dear to me, and every time I thought 
of him I prayed that God would place it within my 
power to clear his name from the stain that now rested 
upon him. 

We reached the station in Newville five minutes 
before train time. My uncle procured our tickets and 
also checked the basket of delicacies the Widow Canby 
had prepared. 

“ Remember me to Mr. Strong,” said the widow, as 
we boarded the train. “ Tell him I don’t believe he’s 
guilty, and perhaps other people in Darbyville won’t 
think so either before long.” 

A moment later and we were off. Kate and Uncle 
Enos occupied one seat, and I sat directly behind them. 
A ride of an hour followed, and finally, after crossing 
a number of other railroads, we rolled into a brick 
station, and the conductor sang out : — 


AT THE PRISON 


157 


“ Trenton ! ” 

It was eleven o’clock when we crossed the wooden 
foot-bridge of the station and emerged upon the street. 

“We’ll go to the prison at once,” said my uncle. 
“Perhaps it isn’t ‘visiting day,’ as they call it, but I 
reckon I can fix it. Sailors on shore have special 
privileges,” he added with a laugh. 

“ Which way is it ? ” asked Kate. 

“I don’t know. We’ll take a carriage and trust to 
the driver.” 

He called a coach, and soon we were rolling off. 

Finally the coach stopped, and the driver sprang from 
his box. 

“ Here you are, sir,” he said, as he opened the door. 

I looked up at the big stone buildings before us. 
My father was behind those walls. I glanced at Kate. 
The poor girl was in tears. 

“You had better stay on board here till I go in and 
take soundings,” said Captain Enos. “I won’t be 
gone long.” 

Jumping to the pavement, he walked up to the 
big open door and entered. 

“ What a dreadful place ! ” said my sister, as she 
strained her eyes to catch sight of some prisoner. 

My uncle was gone not over ten minutes, yet the 
wait seemed an age. He returned with a brightened 
face. 

“ I had hard work to get permission, but we are to 


158 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


have half an hour’s talk with your father under the 
supervision of a deputy,” he explained. 

In another moment we were inside. We walked 
along a wide corridor and into an office, and then a 
short, stout man, Mr. Carr, the deputy, joined us. 

“This way, please,” he said, and gave a kindly 
glance at Kate and myself. “You will have to leave 
the basket here. I will see that it reaches the — the — 
your father.” 

He led the way. How my heart beat ! Why, I 
cannot tell. 

“ I’ll go in first,” said my Uncle Enos. 

We entered a room. In a moment the deputy 
brought in a man dressed in striped clothing, and 
with his hair cut close. It was my father. 

My uncle and I rushed forward. But we were too 
late. With a cry Kate was in his arms. It was a 
great moment all around. 

“ My children ! My Katie and my Roger ! ” was all 
my father could say, but the words went straight home. 

“ I am heartily glad that you are back,” he said then 
to my uncle. “You will look after them, Enos, until I 
am free.” 

“Indeed I will,” replied Captain Enos, heartily. 
“ But you must listen to Roger. He has a long story 
to tell.” 

“ Then tell it. I am dying to hear news from home.” 

We sat down, and I told my story. Perhaps the 


AT THE PKISON 


159 


deputy ought not to have allowed me to say all I did, 
but he pretended not to hear. 

My father listened wdth keen attention to every 
word, and as I went on, his eyes grew brighter and 
brighter. 

“ Roger, my faithful boy, you almost make me hope 
for freedom,” he cried. “Oh, how I long to be set 
right before the world ! ” 

“ God make it so,” put in my uncle, solemnly. “ To 
suffer unjustly is terrible.” 

Then I told of my interview with Mr. Woodward in 
his library and of Holtzmann. 

“ Holtznjann was one of the principal witnesses 
against me,” said my father. “So was Nicholas 
Weaver, who managed the Brooklyn business for 
Holland & Mack. Who John Stumpy can be I do 
not know. Perhaps I would if I saw him face to 
face. There was another man — he was quite bald, 
with a red blotch on the front of his head — who was 
brought forward by Woodward to prove that he had 
nothing to do with the presentation of the forged 
checks and notes, but what his name was I have for- 
gotten.” 

“ This can’t be the man, for he has a heavy head of 
hair,” I replied. “But I am sure Stumpy is not his 
true name.” 

“Probably not. Well, Roger, do your best, not 
only for me, but for Katie’s sake and your own.” 


160 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


Then the conversation became general, and all too 
soon the half hour was at an end. My father sent his 
regards to Mrs. Canby, with many thanks for the 
basket of delicacies, and then with a kiss for Kate and 
a shake of the hand to Uncle Enos and me, we parted. 

Little was said on the way back. No one cared to 
go to a restaurant, and we took the first train homeward. 

It was dark when we reached Newville. The Widow 
Canby’s carriage was at the depot waiting for us. 

“ Suppose I get my ticket for Chicago now,” said I. 
“ It will save time Monday, and I can find out all about 
the train.” 

“A good idea,” returned my uncle. “I’ll go with 
you.” 

So while Kate joined Mrs. Canby we entered the 
depot. 

The ticket was soon in my possession, and then I 
asked the ticket seller a number of questions con- 
cerning the route and the time I would reach my 
destination. 

Suddenly instinct prompted me to turn quickly. I 
did so and found John Stumpy at my shoulder. 


CHAPTER XXI 


A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE 

Mr. John Stumpy had evidently been watching my 
proceedings closely, for when I turned to him he was 
quite startled. However, it did not take him long 
to recover, and then, bracing up, he hurried away 
without a word. 

He was now neatly dressed and had had his face 
shaved. I conjectured that Mr. Woodward had advised 
this change in order to more fully carry out the decep- 
tion in relation to the tramp’s real character. 

“There’s that Stumpy,” I whispered to Captain 
Enos, as I pointed my finger at the man. “He has 
been watching us.” 

“ How do you know ? ” asked my uncle. 

“ Because he was just looking over my shoulder,” I 
replied. “Shall I speak to him? I’d like to know 
what he intends to do next.” 

“ It won’t do any good. It ain’t likely he’d tell you 
anything, and if he did, it wouldn’t be the truth.” 

“ Maybe it might.” 

“Well, do as you think best, Roger, only don’t be 
too long — the widow and Kate are waiting, you know.” 
m 161 


162 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


Pushing through the crowd, I tapped Stumpy on the 
shoulder. He looked around in assumed surprise. 

“ Hullo ! ” he exclaimed sharply. “ What do you 
want ? ” 

“ Nothing much,” I returned. “ I just saw you were 
greatly interested in what I was doing.” 

“ Why, I didn’t see you before.” 

“ You were just looking over my shoulder.” 

“ You’re mistaken, young man, just as you are in 
several other things.” 

“I’m not mistaken in several other things.” 

“ What do you intend to do ? ” he asked curiously. 

“That’s my business.” 

“ Where have you been? ” 

“ That is my business also.” 

“ Strong, you’re a fool,” he whispered. “ Do you 
think you can hurt men like Mr. Woodward and 
myself?” 

“I can bring you to justice.” 

“ Bah ! I suppose you think you can do wonders by 
going to Chicago.” 

“ How do you know I am going to Chicago ? ” I 
questioned quickty. 

Stumpy’s face fell, as he realized the slip he had made. 

“ Never mind. But you won’t gain anything,” he 
went on. “Better stay home and save your money.” 

And to avoid further talk he pushed his way through 
the crowd and was lost to sight. 


A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE 


163 


A moment later I joined the others in the carriage. 
While driving home I related the conversation recorded 
above. 

“ It’s too bad he found out you were going to Chi- 
cago,” said my uncle. “ He may try to stop you.” 

“ I’ll keep my eyes open,” I replied. 

The remainder of the day was spent in active work 
around the widow’s place. Not only did I labor all 
the afternoon, but far into the evening as well, to show 
that I did not intend to shirk my duty even though I 
was going away. Besides, Mrs. Canby had treated me 
so well that I was almost willing to work my fingers to 
the bone to serve her. 

The following day was Sunday. Kate and I were in 
the habit of attending church and Sunday-school over 
in Darbyville, but we shrank from doing so now. But 
Uncle Enos and I went to church, and despite the many 
curious eyes levelled at me, I managed to give atten- 
tion to an excellent sermon. I noticed that the Wood- 
ward pew was empty, but then this was of common 
occurrence and excited no comment. 

On Sunday evening my handbag stood in my room 
packed, ready for my departure. Dick Blair came 
over to see me and brought strange and sad news. 

Duncan Woodward and Pultzer, his intimate crony, 
had gotten into a row in a pool room down in New- 
ville and were both under arrest. Mr. Woodward and 
Mr. Pultzer had gone off to get their sons out of jail. 


164 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


Dick did not know how the row had started, but had 
heard that the young men had been drinking heayily. 

I was much shocked at the news, and so were the 
others. If affairs kept on like this, Mr. Aaron Wood- 
ward would certainly have his hands full. 

I retired early so as to be on hand the next day. 
Sleep was out of the question. I had never been a 
hundred miles away from Darbyville, and the prospect 
of leaving filled me with excitement. 

I was up long before it was necessary, but found 
Kate ahead of me. 

“You’re going to have a good, hot breakfast before 
you go,” she said. “ Sit right down. It’s all ready.” 

Presently, as I was eating, my uncle and Mrs. Canby 
joined me. They were full of advice as to what to do 
and what to avoid, and I listened to all they, had to say 
attentively. 

But all things must come to an end, and at length 
breakfast was over. My Uncle Enos and Kate drove 
me to Newville, and waited till the train rolled in. 

“ Good-by, Roger,” said Kate. “ Please, please , now 
do keep out of trouble.” 

“ I will, Kate,” I returned, and kissed her. Then I 
shook hands with my uncle. 

“Keep a clear weather eye and a strong hand at the 
wheel, Roger, my boy,” he said, “ and you’ll make port 
all safe.” 

“I’ll try, Uncle Enos.” 


A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE 


165 


A moment more and I was on the cars. Then with 
an “ All aboard ” the conductor gave the signal, and the 
train moved off. 

I passed into the car and took a vacant seat near the 
centre. I had hardly sat down before a well-dressed 
stranger took the seat beside me. 

“ Hot day,” said he, after he had arranged his bag on 
the floor beside my own. 

“ Yes, it is,” I replied, “and dry, too.” 

“Meanest part of the country I’ve struck yet,” he 
went on. “Don’t have any such climate as this out 
West.” 

“I should think that would depend on where you 
come from,” I returned, with a short laugh. 

“ I hail from Chicago. It’s hot there, but we get 
plenty of breeze from the lakes.” 

I looked at the man with some attention. He came 
from the city I intended to visit, and perhaps he might 
give me some information. 

He was a burly man of middle age, and, as I have 
said, well dressed, though a trifle loud. His hair was 
black, as was also his mustache, which he continually 
kept smoothing down with one hand. I did not like 
his looks particularly, nor his tone of voice. They 
reminded me strongly of some one, but whom I could 
not remember. 

“You come from Chicago,” I said. “I am going 
there.” 


166 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“ Is that so ? Then we can travel together. I like 
to ha*ve some one going along, don’t you ? ” 

I felt like saying that that would depend on who the 
some one was, but thinking this would hardly be polite, 
1 returned : — 

“ I don’t know. I’ve never travelled before.” 

“No? Well, it’s fun at first, but you soon get tired 
of it. My name is Allen Price ; what is yours ? ” 

“Roger Strong.” 

“ Glad to meet you.” He extended his hand. “You’re 
rather young to be travelling alone — that is, going a 
distance. Do you smoke? We’ll go into the smoker 
and take it easy. I have some prime cigars.” 

“ Thank you, I don’t smoke.” 

“That’s too bad. Nothing like a good cigar to quiet 
a man’s nerves when he’s riding. So you’re going to 
Chicago ? On a visit ? ” 

“No, sir; on business.” 

“Yes? Rather young for business — excuse me for 
saying so.” 

“ It is a personal business.” 

“ Oh, I see. Going to claim a dead uncle’s property 
or something like that, I suppose. Ha ! ha ! well, I 
wish you luck.” 

Mr. Allen Price rattled on in this fashion for some 
time, and at length I grew interested in the man in 
spite of myself. I was positive I had seen him before, 
but where I could not tell. I asked him if he had ever 
been to Darbyville. 


A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE 


167 


“ Never heard of the place,” he replied. “ Only been 
in Jersey a month, and that time was spent principally 
in Jersey City and Camden. I’m in the pottery busi- 
ness. Our principal office is in Chicago.” 

“ Do you know much about that city ? ” 

“ Lived there all my life.” 

I was on the point of asking him about Holtzmann, 
but on second thought decided to remain silent. 

On and on sped the train, making but few stops. 
There was a dining-car attached, but I was travelling 
on a cheap scale, and made my dinner and supper from 
the generous lunch the widow had provided. 

Mr. Price went to the dining-car and also the smoker. 
He returned about nine o’clock in the evening, just as 
I was falling into a light doze. 

“Thought I’d get a sleeper,” he explained. “But 
they are all full, so I’ll have to snooze beside you 
here.” 

His breath smelt strongly of liquor, but I had no 
right to object, and he dropped heavily into the seat. 

Presently I went sound asleep. How long I slept I 
do not know. When I awoke it was with a sharp, 
stinging sensation in the head. A pungent odor filled 
my nose, the scent coming from a handkerchief some 
one had thrown over my face. 

With a gasp I pulled the handkerchief aside and sat 
up. Beside me sat Mr. Allen Price with my handbag 
on his lap. He had a number of keys in his hand and 
was trying to unlock the bag. 


CHAPTER XXII 


A TELEGRAM 

I WAS startled and indignant when I discovered 
Mr. Allen Price with my handbag, trying to open it. 
It looked very much as if my fellow-passenger was 
endeavoring to rob me. 

I had suspected from the start that this man was 
not “straight.” There was that peculiar something 
about his manner which I did not like. He had been 
altogether too familiar from the first; too willing to 
make himself agreeable. 

What he expected to find in my bag I could not 
imagine. If his mission was robbery pure and simple, 
why had he not selected some one who looked richer 
than myself? There was, I am certain, nothing about 
me to make him believe I had anything of great value 
in the bag. 

“ What are you doing with my valise ?” I demanded 
as I straightened up. 

My sudden question made the man almost jump to 
his feet. The bag dropped from his lap to the floor, 
and the keys in his hand jingled after it. 

168 


A TELEGRAM 


169 


“I — I — didn’t think you were awake,” he stam- 
mered. 

“ You didn’t ? ” I repeated, puzzled as to what to say. 

“ No — I — I — ” 

“You were trying to open my bag.” 

44 So I was — but it’s all a mistake, I assure you.” 

44 A mistake ? ” 

44 Quite a mistake, Strong.” He cleared his throat. 
44 The fact is, I’m suffering so from the toothache that 
I’m hardly able to judge of what I’m doing. I thought 
your bag was my own.” 

44 They are not much alike,” I returned bluntly. 

“Well, you see mine is a new one, and I’m not used 
to it yet. I hope you don’t think I was trying to rob 
you ? ” he went on, with a look of reproach. 

I was silent. I did think that that was just what he 
was trying to do, but I hardly cared to say so. 

44 It’s awful to have such toothaches as I get,” he 
continued, putting his hand to his cheek. “ They 
come on me unawares, and drive me frantic. I wanted 
to get my teeth attended to in Jersey City when I was 
there, but I didn’t have time.” 

44 What’s this on the handkerchief ? ” I asked. 

“Oh, I guess I spilled some of my toothache cure 
on it,” he replied, after some hesitation. “I used some 
and then put the bottle back in the valise. That’s 
how I came to look for the bottle again. I hope you’re 
not offended. It was all a mistake.” 


170 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“ It’s all right if that’s the case,” I returned coolly. 

Holding my valise on my lap, I settled back in the 
seat again, but not to sleep. The little adventure had 
aroused me thoroughly. Mr. Allen Price sat beside 
me for a few moments in silence. 

“ Guess I’ll go into the smoker,” he said finally, as 
he rose. “ Maybe a cigar will help me,” and taking 
up his handbag, he walked down the aisle. 

In a dreamy way I meditated over what had occurred. 
I could not help but think that the handkerchief I had 
found spread over my face had been saturated with 
chloroform, and that my fellow-passenger had endeav- 
ored to put me in a sound sleep and then rifle my bag. 
Of course I might be mistaken, but still I was positive 
that Mr. Allen Price would bear watching. 

About four o’clock in the morning the train came to 
a sudden stop. The jar was so pronounced that it woke 
nearly all of the passengers. 

Thinking that possibly we had arrived at our destina- 
tion, I raised the window and peered out. 

Instead of being in the heart of a city, however, I 
soon discovered we were in a belt of timber land. 
Huge trees lined the road on both sides, and ahead I 
could hear the flowing of a mountain stream. 

The train hands were out with their lanterns, and 
by their movements it was plain to see that something 
was up. 

I waited in my seat for ten minutes or more, and 


A TELEGRAM 


171 


then as a number of passengers left the car, I took 
up my bag and did the same. 

A walk to the front of the train soon made known 
the cause of the delay. Over a small mountain stream 
a strong wooden bridge with iron frame had been built. 
Near the bridge grew a number of tall trees, and one 
of these had been washed loose by the water and 
overturned in such a manner that the largest branch 
blocked the progress of the locomotive. The strong 
headlight had revealed the state of affairs to the 
engineer, and he had stopped within five feet of the 
obstruction. Had he run on, it is impossible to calcu- 
late what amount of damage might have been done. 

“ Don’t see what we are going to do, except to run 
back to Smalleyville,” said the engineer, who was in 
consultation with the conductor. 

“ Can’t we roll the tree out of the way ? ” asked the 
latter official. 

The engineer shook his head. 

“Too heavy. All the men on the train couldn’t 
budge it.” 

They stood in silence for a moment. 

“ If you had a rope, you could make the engine haul 
it,” I suggested to the fireman, who was a young fellow. 

“ A good idea,” he exclaimed, and reported it to his 
superior. 

“First-class plan; but we haven’t got the rope,” 
said the engineer. 


172 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“ Have you got an axe ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“ Then why not chop it off ? ” 

“ That’s so ! Larry, bring the axes.” 

“ It won’t do any good,” said one of the brakemen 
who had just come up. “The bridge has shifted.” 

An examination proved his assertion to be correct. 
As soon as this became known, a danger light was hung 
at either end of the structure, and then we started run- 
ning backward to Smalleyville. 

“ How long will this delay us ? ” I asked of the con- 
ductor as he came through, explaining matters. 

“ I can’t tell. Perhaps only a few hours, perhaps 
more. It depends on how soon the wrecking gang 
arrive on the spot. As soon as they get there, they 
will go right to work, and it won’t take them long to 
fix matters up.” 

Smalleyville proved to be a small town of not over 
five hundred inhabitants. There was quite an excite- 
ment around the depot when the train came in, and 
despatches were sent in various directions. 

Presently a shower came up, and this drove the pas- 
sengers to the cars and the station. I got aboard the 
train at first to listen to what the train hands might 
have to say. I found one of the brakemen quite a 
friendly fellow, and willing to talk. 

“This rain will make matters worse,” said he. 
“ That tree was leaning against the bridge for all it 


A TELEGRAM 


173 


was worth, and if it loosens any more it will carry the 
thing away clean.” 

“ Isn’t there danger of trains coming from the other 
way?” 

“Not now. We’ve telegraphed to Chicago, and no 
train will leave till everything is in running order.” 

“ When does the next train arrive behind us ? ” 

“ At 9.30 this morning.” 

We chatted for quite a while. Then there was a 
commotion on the platform, and we found that part of 
the wrecking gang had arrived on a hand-car. 

They brought with them a great lot of tools, and 
soon a flat car with a hoisting machine was run out of 
a shed, and they were off. 

By this time it was raining in torrents, and the 
station platform was deserted. Not caring to get wet, 
I again took my seat in the car, and presently fell 
asleep. 

When I awoke I found it was six o’clock. The rain 
still fell steadily, without signs of abating. 

I was decidedly hungry, and buttoning my coat up 
tightly about my neck, I sallied forth in search of a 
restaurant. 

I found one within a block of the depot, and entering, 
I called for some coffee and muffins — first, however, 
assuring myself that my train was not likely to leave 
for fully an hour. 

While busy with what the waiter had brought, I saw 


174 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


Mr. Allen Price enter. Luckily the table I sat at was 
full, and he Was compelled to take a seat some distance 
from me. 

“ Good morning, my young friend,” said he, as he 
stopped for an instant in front of me. 

I was surprised at his pleasant manner. He acted as 
if nothing had ever happened to bring up a coolness 
between us. 

“ Good morning,” I replied briefly. 

“ Terrible rain, this, isn’t it ? ” 

“It is.” 

“ My toothache’s much better,” he went on, “ and I 
feel like myself once more. Funny I mistook your 
valise for mine, last night, wasn’t it ? ” 

“ I don’t know,” I replied flatly. 

I returned to my breakfast, and, seeing I would not 
converse further, the man passed on and sat down. 
But I felt that his eyes were on me, and instinctively 
I made up my mind to be on my guard. 

As I was about to leave the place, several more 
passengers came in, and by what they said I learned 
that the train would not start for Chicago till noon, the 
bridge being so badly damaged that the road engineer 
would not let anything cross until it was propped up. 

Not caring to go back to the train, I entered the 
waiting-room and took in all there was to be seen. 

At one end of the place was a news stand, and 
I walked up to this to look at the picture papers that 
were displayed. 


A TELEGRAM 


175 


I was deeply interested in a cartoon on the middle 
pages of an illustrated paper when I heard Mr. Price’s 
voice asking for some Chicago daily, and then making 
inquiries as to where the telegraph office was located. 

He did not see me, and I at once stepped out of sight 
behind him. 

Having received his directions, Mr. Price sat down 
to write out his telegram. Evidently what he wrote 
did not satisfy him, for he tore up several slips of paper 
before he managed to prepare one that suited him. 

Then he arose, and throwing the scraps in a wad on 
the floor, walked away. 

Unobserved, I picked up the wad. Right or wrong, 
I was bound to see what it contained. Perhaps it 
might be of no earthly interest to me ; on the other 
hand, it might contain much I would desire to know. 
Strange things had happened lately, and I was pre- 
pared for all sorts of surprises. 

A number of the slips of paper were missing and the 
remainder were so crumpled that the pencil marks were 
nearly illegible. 

At length I managed to fit one of the sheets together 
and then read these words : — 

C. Holtzmann, Chicago : 

Look out for a young man claiming to — 


CHAPTER XXIII 


IN CHICAGO 

I had not been mistaken in my opinion of Mr. Allen 
Price. He was following me, and doing it with no 
good intention. 

I concluded the man must be employed by Mr. 
Woodward. Perhaps I had seen him at some time in 
Darbyville, and so thought his face familiar. 

I was glad that if he was a detective I was aware of 
the fact. I would now know how to trust him, and I 
made up my mind that if he got the best of me it would 
be my own fault. 

One thing struck me quite forcibly. The merchant 
and John Stumpy both considered my proposed visit to 
Chris Holtzmann of importance. They would not have 
put themselves to the trouble and expense of hiring 
some one to follow me if this was not so. Though 
Mr. Aaron Woodward was rich, he was close, and did 
not spend an extra dollar except upon himself. 

I was chagrined at the thought that Holtzmann 
would be prepared to receive me. I had hoped to 
come upon him unawares, and get into his confidence 
before he could realize what I was after. 


176 


IN CHICAGO 


177 


I began to wonder when the telegram would reach 
Chicago. Perhaps something by good fortune might 
delay it. 

Mr. Allen Price walked over to the telegraph office, 
and following him with my eyes I saw him pay for the 
message and then stroll away. 

Hardly had he gone before I too stepped up to the 
counter. 

44 How long will it take to send a message to Chi- 
cago ? ” I asked of the clerk in charge. 

44 Probably till noon,” was the reply. u The storm has 
crippled us, and we are having trouble with our lineman. ” 

44 It won’t go before noon ! ” I repeated, and my heart 
gave a bound. 44 Are you sure ? ” 

“Yes ; perhaps even longer.” 

“ How about the message that gentleman just handed 
in?” 

“I told him I would send it as soon as possible.” 

44 Did you tell him it wouldn’t go before noon ? ” 

44 No ; he didn’t ask,” returned the clerk, coolly. He 
was evidently not going to let any business slip if he 
could help it. 

“Is there any possible way I can get to Chicago 
before noon? ” I went on. 

The clerk shook his head. 44 1 don’t think there is,” 
he replied. 

“What is the nearest station on the other side of 
the bridge ? ” 

N 


1T8 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“ Foley.” 

“ And how far is that from Chicago ? ” 

“ Twelve miles.” 

“ Thank you.” 

I walked away from the counter filled with a sudden 
resolve. I must reach Chicago before the telegram or 
Mr. Allen Price. If I did not, my trip to the city of 
the lakes would be a failure. 

How was the thing to be accomplished ? W alking 
out on the covered platform, out of sight of the man 
who was following me, I tried to solve the problem. 

Sm alley ville was a good ten miles from the misplaced 
bridge, and in a soaking rain such a distance was too 
far to walk. Perhaps I might get a carriage to take 
mp to the spot. I supposed the cost would be several 
dollars, but decided not to stand on that amount. 

I had about made up my mind to hunt up a livery 
stable, when some workingmen rolled up to the station 
on a hand-car. 

“ Where are you going ? ” I inquired of one of them. 

“ Down to the Foley bridge,” was the reply. 

“ Will you take a passenger ? ” I went on quickly. 

“ You’ll have to ask the boss.” 

The boss proved to be a jolly German. 

“ Yont ter haf a ride, does you ! ” he laughed. 

“ I’m not over particular about the ride,” I explained. 
“ I’ve got to get to Chicago as soon as possible, even if 
I have to walk.” 


IN CHICAGO 


179 


“Yell, jump on, den.” 

I did so, and a moment later we were off. I was 
pretty confident that Mr. Allen Price had not witnessed 
my departure, and I hoped he would not find it out 
for some hours to come. 

The rain had now slackened, so there was no further 
danger of getting soaked to the skin. There were 
four men on the car besides the boss, and seeing they 
were short a hand I took hold with a will. 

Fortunately the grade was downward, and we had 
but little difficulty in sending the car on its way. At 
the end of half an hour the stream came in sight, and 
then as we slackened up I hopped off. 

Down by the water’s edge I found that the bridge 
had shifted fully six inches out of line with the road- 
bed. It was, however, in a pretty safe condition, and 
I had no difficulty in crossing to the other side. 

Despite the storm a goodly number of men were as- 
sembled on the opposite bank, anxiously watching the 
efforts of the workmen. Among them I found a man, 
evidently a cabman, standing near a coupe, the horses 
of which were still smoking from a long run. 

“ Are you from Foley ? ” I asked, stepping up. 

“ No ; just come all the way from Chicago,” was the 
reply. “ Had to bring two men down that wanted to 
get to Smalley ville.” 

This was interesting news. Perhaps I could get the 
man to take me back with him. Of course he would 


180 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


take me if I hired him in the regular way, but if I did 
this, I was certain he would charge me a small fortune. 

44 1 am going to Chicago,” I said. 44 1 just came 
from Smalley ville.” 

44 That so ? Want to hire my rig? ” 

44 You charge too much,” I returned. 44 A fellow 
like me can’t afford luxuries.” 

44 Take you there for two dollars. It’s worth five — 
those two men gave me ten.” 

44 What time will you land me in Chicago ? ” 

44 Where do you want to go ? ” 

That question was a poser. I knew no more of the 
city of Chicago than I did of Paris or Pekin. Yet I 
did not wish to be set down on the outskirts, and not 
to show my ignorance I answered cautiously : — 

44 To the railroad depot.” 

44 Have you the time now ? ” 

44 It is about seven o’clock.” 

44 I’ll be there by nine.” 

44 All right. Land me there by that time, and I’ll 
pay you the two dollars.” 

44 It’s a go. Jump in,” he declared. 

I did so. A moment later he gathered up the reins, 
and we went whirling down the road. 

The ride was an easy one, and as we bowled along I 
had ample opportunity to ponder over my situation. I 
wondered what Mr. Allen Price would think when he 
discovered I was nowhere to be found. I could well 


IN CHICAGO 


181 


imagine his chagrin, and I could not help smiling at 
the way I had outwitted him. I was not certain what 
sort of a man Chris Holtzmann would prove to be, and 
therefore it was utterly useless to plan a means of ap- 
proaching him. 

At length we reached the suburbs of Chicago, and 
rolled down one of the broad avenues. It was now 
clear and bright, and the clean broad street with its 
handsome houses pleased me very much. 

In half an hour we reached the business portion of 
the city, and soon the coupe came to a halt and the 
driver opened the door. 

“ Here we are,” said he. 

I jumped to the ground and gazed around. Oppo- 
site was the railroad station, true enough, and beyond 
blocks and blocks of tall business buildings, which re- 
minded me strongly of New York. 

I paid the cabman the two dollars I had promised, 
and he drove off. 

In Chicago at last ! I looked around. I was in the 
heart of a great city, knowing no one, and with no idea 
of where to go. 

Yet my heart did not fail me. My mind was too 
full of the object of my quest to allow me to become 
faint-hearted. I was there for a purpose, and that pur- 
pose must be accomplished. 

My clothes were still damp, but the sunshine was 
fast drying them. Near by was a bootblack’s chair, 


182 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


and dropping into this, I had him polish my shoes and 
brush me up generally. 

While he was performing the operation 1 questioned 
him concerning the streets and gained considerable 
information. 

“ Did you ever hear of a man by the name of Chris 
Holtzmann ? ” I asked. 

“ I dunno,” was the slow reply. “ What does he 
do?” 

“ I don’t know what business he is in. He came 
from Brooklyn.” 

The bootblack shook his head. 

“ This city is a big place. There might be a dozen 
men by his name here. The street what you spoke 
about has lots of saloons and theatres on it. Maybe 
he’s in that business.” 

“Maybe he is,” I returned. “I must find out 
somehow.” 

“ You can look him up in the directory. You’ll find 
one over in the drug store on the corner.” 

“ Thank you ; I guess that’s what I’ll do,” I replied. 

When he had finished, I paid him ten cents for his 
work, and walked over to the place he had mentioned. 

A polite clerk waited on me and pointed out the 
directory lying on a stand. 

I looked it over carefully, and three minutes later 
walked out with Chris Holtzmann’s new address in my 
pocket. 


IN CHICAGO 


183 


As I did so, I saw a stream of people issue from the 
depot. Some of them looked familiar. Was it possible 
that the train from Smalleyville had managed to come 
through, after all ? It certainly looked like it. 

I was not kept long in doubt. I crossed over to 
make sure, and an instant later found myself face to 
face with Allen Price ! 


CHAPTER XXIV 


WHO ME. ALLEN PRICE WAS 

I will not deny that I was considerably taken aback 
by my unexpected meeting with the man who had been 
following me. 1 had been firmly under the impression 
that he was still lolling around Smalleyville, waiting 
for a chance to continue his journey. 

But if I was surprised, so was Mr. Allen Price. 
Every indication showed that he had not missed me at 
my departure, and that he was under the belief that I 
had been left behind. 

He stopped short and gazed at me in blank aston- 
ishment. 

44 Why — why — where did you come from ? ” he 
stammered. 

44 From Smalleyville,” I returned as coolly as I could. 
“ And that’s where you came from, too,” I added. 

44 1 didn’t see you on the train,” he went on, ignoring 
my last remark. 

44 1 didn’t come up by train.” 

44 Maybe you walked,” he went on, with some anxiety. 

44 Oh, no ; I rode in a carriage.” 

184 


WHO MR. ALLEN PRICE WAS 


185 


“ Humph ! It seems to me you must have been in a 
tremendous hurry.” 

“Perhaps I was.” 

“Why, you excite my curiosity. May I ask the 
cause of your sudden impatience ? ” 

He put the question in an apparently careless fashion, 
but his sharp eyes betrayed his keen interest 

“ You may.” 

“ And what was it ? ” 

I looked at him for a moment in silence. 

“ I came to see a man.” 

“ Ah ! A friend ? Perhaps he is seriously sick.” 

“ I don’t know if he is sick or not.” 

“ And yet you hurried to see him ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“Well, that — that is out of the ordinary.” He 
hesitated for a moment. “ Of course it is none of my 
business, but I am interested. Perhaps I know the 
party and can help you. May I ask his name ? ” 

“ It’s the same man you telegraphed to,” I returned. 

Mr. Allen Price stopped short and nearly dropped 
his handbag. My unexpected reply had taken the 
“ wind out of his sails.” 

“ I telegraphed to ? ” he repeated. 

“ Exactly.” 

“ But — but I telegraphed to no one.” 

“ Yes, you did.” 

“ Why, my dear young friend, you are mistaken.” 


186 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“ I’m not your dear friend,” I returned with spirit. 
“ You telegraphed to Chris Holtzmann to beware of me. 
Why did you do it ? ” 

The man’s face fell considerably, and he did not 
answer. I went on : — 

“You are following me and trying to defeat the 
object of my trip to Chicago. But you shall not do it. 
You pretend to be an ordinary traveller, but you are 
nothing more than a spy sent on by Mr. Aaron Wood- 
ward to stop me. But I have found you out, and now 
you can go back to him and tell him that his little plan 
didn’t work.” 

The man’s brow grew black with anger. He was 
very angry, and I could see that it was with difficulty 
he kept his hands off me. 

“ Think you’re smart, don’t you ? ” he sneered. 

“ I was too smart for you.” 

“But you don’t know it all,” he went on. “You 
don’t know it all — not by a jugful.” 

“ I know enough to steer clear of you.” 

“ Maybe you do.” 

The man evidently did not know what to say, and, 
as a matter of fact, neither did I. I had told him 
some plain truths, and now I was anxious to get 
away from him and think out my future course of 
action. 

“ What’s your idea of calling on Chris Holtzmann ? ” 
he went on after a long pause. 


WHO MR. ALLEN PRICE WAS 


187 


“ That’s my business.” 

“ It won’t do you any good.” 

“Perhaps it may.” 

“ I know it won’t,” he replied in decided tones. 

“ What do you know about it ? ” I said sharply. “ A 
moment ago you denied knowing anything about me. 
Now I’ve done with you, and I want you to leave me 
alone.” 

“ You needn’t get mad about it.” 

“ I’ll do as I please.” 

“ No, you won’t,” he growled. “ If you don’t do as I 
want you to, I’ll have you arrested.” 

This was strong language, and I hardly knew what 
to say in reply. Not that I was frightened by his 
threat, but what made the man take such a strong per- 
sonal interest in the matter ? 

As I have said, I was almost certain I had seen the 
fellow before, though where and when was more than 
I could determine. Perhaps he was disguised. 

“ Perhaps you don’t think I know who you are,” I 
said quickly. 

My words were a perfect shock to Mr. Allen Price. 
In spite of his bronzed face he turned pale. 

“ You know who I am ? Why, I am as I told you, 
— Allen Price,” he faltered. 

“ Really,” I replied, with assumed sarcasm. 

“Yes, really.” 

“ I know better,” I returned boldly. 


188 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


I was hardly prepared for what was to follow. The 
man caught me by the arm. 

“ Then what you know shall cost you dear,” he cried. 
“ I’m not to be outwitted by a country boy. Help ! 
Police I Police ! ” 

As he uttered his call for assistance he let drop his 
handbag and drew his purse from his pocket. 

“ I’ve got you, you young thief ! ” he cried, letting 
the purse fall to the sidewalk. “ You didn’t think to 
be caught as easily, did you ? Help ! Po — Oh, 
officer, I’m glad you’ve come ! ” the last to a policeman 
who had just hurried to the scene. 

“ What’s the matter here ? ” demanded the minion of 
the law. 

“I just caught this young fellow picking my 
pocket,” exclaimed Mr. Allen. “ Where’s my pocket- 
book?” 

“There’s a pocketbook on the sidewalk,” put in a 
man in the crowd that had quickly gathered. 

“So it is.” He picked it up. “You rascal! You 
thought to get away in fine style, didn’t you ? ” he 
continued to me. 

For a moment I was too stunned to speak. The un- 
looked-for turn of affairs took away my breath. 

“ I didn’t pick his pocket,” I burst out. 

“ Yes, you did.” 

“ It isn’t so. He’s a swindler and is trying to get 
me into trouble.” 


WHO MR. ALLEN PRICE WAS 


189 


“ Here ! here ! none of that ! ” broke in the officer. 
“ Tell me your story,” he said to Mr. Allen Price. 

“ I was coming along looking in the shop windows,” 
began my accuser, “ when I felt a hand in my pocket. 
I turned quickly and just in time to catch this fellow 
trying to make off with my pocketbook.” 

“ It is a falsehood, every word of it,” I declared. 

“ Shut up ! ” said the officer, sternly. “ Please go on.” 

“ He is evidently a smart thief,” continued Mr. Allen 
Price. “ I must see if I have lost anything else.” 

He began a pretended examination of his clothes. 
In the meantime the crowd began to grow larger and 
larger. 

“We can’t stay here all day,” said the policeman, 
roughly. “ What have you got to say to the charge ? ” 

“I say it isn’t true,” I replied. “This man is a 
humbug. He is following me for a purpose, and is 
trying to get me into trouble.” 

“ Ridiculous ! ” cried my accuser. “ Why, I never 
heard of such a thing before ! ” 

“That story won’t wash,” said the officer to me. 
“ Do you make a charge ? ” he continued to Mr. Allen 
Price. 

My accuser hesitated. “ I will, if it is not necessary 
for me to go along,” he said. “ I am pressed for time. 
My name is Sylvester Manners. I am a partner in the 
Manners Clothing Company. You know the firm, I 
presume.” 


190 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“ Oh, yes, sir,” replied the officer. He knew the 
Manners Clothing Company to be a rich concern. 

“ I will stop at the station house to-morrow morning 
and make a complaint,” continued Mr. Allen Price. 
“Don’t let the young rascal escape.” 

“No fear, sir. Come on ! ” the last to me. 

“ I’ve done no wrong. I want that* man arrested ! ” 
I cried. “ He is no more a merchant here in Chicago 
than I am. He — ” 

But the officer would not listen. He took a strong 
hold upon my collar and began to march me off. Mr. 
Allen Price walked beside us until we reached the 
corner. 

“ I will leave you here, officer,” he said. “ I’ll be 
down in the morning, sure. As for you,” he continued 
to me, “ I trust you will soon see the error of your 
ways and try to mend them, and — ” he continued in a 
whisper, as the officer’s attention was distracted for a 
moment, “never try to outwit John Stumpy again ! ” 


CHAPTER XXV 


AN EXCITING ADVENTURE 

Mr. Allen Price and John Stumpy were one and 
the same person ! For a moment so great was my sur- 
prise that I forgot I was under arrest, and walked on 
beside the officer without a protest. 

Now that I knew the truth it was easy to trace the 
resemblance, and I blamed myself greatly for not hav- 
ing discovered it when we first met. 

Of a certainty the man was bent upon frustrating my 
plans, partly for his own safety, and more so upon Mr. 
Aaron Woodward’s account. No doubt the merchant 
was paying him well for his work, and John Stumpy 
intended to do all he could to crush me. 

But I was not to be crushed. The forces brought 
against me only made my will stronger to go ahead. 
It was do or die, and that was all there was to it. 

I could easily understand why John Stumpy wished 
to obtain possession of my handbag. In it he hoped to 
find the papers Mr. Woodward had lost and Nicholas 
Weaver’s confession. I could not help but smile at the 
thought that, notwithstanding all I had said to the 
191 


192 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


contrary, the two plotters still believed I had the lost 
documents. 

One thing perplexed me. Why was my visit to 
Chris Holtzmann considered of such importance that 
every possible means was taken to prevent it? Did 
this man possess the entire key to the situation ? And 
were they afraid he could be bought up or threatened 
into a confession? It looked so. 

“You are not from Chicago, young fellow?” said 
the policeman who had me in charge. 

“ No ; I’m from the East.” 

“ Humph ! Got taken in short, didn’t j^ou? ” 

“ I’m not guilty of any crime,” I returned, “ and 
you’ll find it out when it comes to the examination.” 

“ I’ll chance it,” replied the officer, grimly. 

“ That man is a fraud. If you call on the Manners 
Clothing Company, you will find it so.” 

“ That’s not part of my duty. I’ll take you to the 
station house, and you can tell the judge your story,” 
replied the policeman. 

Yet I could see by the way his brow contracted that 
my assertion had had its effect upon him. Probably 
had he given the matter proper thought in the first 
place, he would have compelled John Stumpy to accom- 
pany him. 

Still, this did me no good. Here I was being taken 
to the jail while the man who should have been under 
arrest was free. I would probably have to remain in 


AN EXCITING ADVENTURE 


193 


confinement until the following morning, and in the 
meantime John Stumpy could call on Chris Holtzmann 
and arrange plans to suit himself. 

This would never do, as it would defeat the whole 
object of my trip West, and send me home to be 
laughed at by Mr. Aaron Woodward and Duncan. 

“ Can I ask for an examination at once ? ” I inquired. 

14 Maybe ; if the judge is there.” 

44 And if he isn’t ? ” 

44 You’ll have to wait till to-morrow morning. You 
see it isn’t — Hello I thunder and lightning ! what’s 
that?” 

As the officer uttered the exclamation there was a 
wild cry on the streets, and the next instant the crowds 
of people scattered in every direction. 

And no wonder, for down the pavement came an 
infuriated bull, charging everybody and everything 
before him. 

The animal had evidently broken away from a herd 
that was being driven to the stock-yards, and his nose, 
where the ring was fastened, was torn and covered 
with blood, and he breathed hard, as if he had run a 
great distance. 

44 It’s a mad bull ! ” I cried. 44 Take care, or he’ll 
horn both of us ! ” 

My words of caution were unnecessary, for no sooner 
had the bull turned in our direction than the officer let go 
his hold upon me and fled into a doorway near at hand. 


194 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


For an instant I was on the point of following him. 
Then came the sudden thought that now would be a 
good chance to escape. 

To think was to act. No sooner had the policeman 
jumped into the doorway than I dodged through the 
crowd and hurried across the street. Reaching the 
opposite side, I ran into an alley. It was long and led 
directly into the back garden of a handsome stone 
mansion. 

The garden was filled with beautiful flowers and 
plants, and in the centre a tiny fountain sent a thin 
spray into the air. At one side, under a small arbor, 
stood a garden bench, and on this sat a little girl play- 
ing with a number of dolls. 

Her golden hair hung heavy over her shoulders, and 
she looked supremely happy. She greeted my entrance 
with a smile, and took me at once into her confidence. 

“ This is my new dolly,” she explained, holding the 
article up. 

“ Is it ? ” I asked, hardly knowing what to say. 

“Yes; papa bringed it home yesterday. Does oo 
like dollies?” 

“ Oh, yes, nice ones like that. You must have lots 
of fun. I — ” 

I did not finish the sentence. There was a noise 
in the alley, and the next instant the mad bull came 
crashing into the garden ! 

For a second I was too surprised to move or speak. 


AN EXCITING ADVENTURE 


195 


The little girl uttered a piercing scream, and gathering 
her dolls in her arms huddled into a corner of the 
bench. 

Why the animal had followed so closely behind me 
I could not tell, but once in the garden, it was plain 
to see he was bent upon doing considerable damage. 
He was more enraged than ever, and scattered the 
sodding about in every direction. 

At first some red flowers attracted his attention, 
and he charged upon these with a fury that wrecked 
the entire flower-bed in which they were standing. 

While the bull was at this work I partly recovered 
my senses, and then the first thought that came to my 
mind was the necessity of getting the little girl to a 
place of safety. Let the bull once get at her, and her 
life might pay the penalty. I was not many feet 
away from the little miss, and a few bounds took me 
to her side. 

“ Come, let me take you into the house,” I said, and 
picked her up. 

She made no reply, but continued to scream and 
clung to me with all the strength of her little arms. 

There was a back piazza to the mansion five or six 
steps high. I knew that if we once reached this we 
would be safe, for no matter what the bull might do, 
he could not climb. 

“ Oh, Millie, my child ! ” came a voice from the 
house, and I saw a lady afc one of the windows. “ Oh, 


196 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


save her ! Bring her here ! ” she cried, as she caught 
sight of the bull. 

I uttered no reply, but sprang toward the steps. 

But though I wasted no time, the bull was too quick 
for me. Springing over the flower-bed, he planted 
himself directly in my path. 

It made my blood run cold to have him face me 
with that vicious look and those glaring eyes. One 
prod of those horns and all would be over. 

“ Oh, save Millie ! Save my child ! ” The lady 
had opened the door and now came running out upon 
the piazza. 

“ I will if I can ! ” I returned. “ Don’t come down 
here. He’ll tear you all to pieces ! ” 

Even as I spoke the bull made a plunge for me. I 
darted to one side and sprang over to the edge of the 
piazza corner. 

“ Give her to me ! Hand her up ! ” exclaimed the 
lady, as she rushed over, and as I held the little one 
on my shoulder, the lady drew her up and clasped the 
child, dolls and all, to her breast. 

Hardly had I got rid of my charge than the bull 
came for me again. The trick I had played on him 
only served to increase his rage, and he snorted 
loudly. 

I was in a bad fix. Between the piazza and the 
next-door fence was a distance of but ten feet, and 
behind me was the solid stone wall of the house. 


AN EXCITING ADVENTURE 


197 


Escape on any side was impossible. Had I had time 
I might have climbed up to the piazza, but now this 
was not to be thought of, and another means of getting 
out of danger must be instantly devised. 

“ Oh, he will be killed ! ” cried the lady, in horror. 
“ Help ! help ! ” 

I glanced around for some weapon with which to 
defend myself. I had nothing with me. Even my 
valise lay at the other end of the garden, where I 
had dropped it when the animal first made his 
appearance. 

As I said, I looked around, and behind me found 
a heavy spade the gardener had at one time or another 
used for digging post holes. It was a strong and 
sharp implement, and I took it up with a good deal 
of satisfaction. 

The bull charged on me with fury. As he did so, 
I took the spade and held it on a level with my waist, 
resting the butt end on the wall behind me. 

The next instant there was a terrific crash that 
made me sick from head to foot. With all his 
force the bull had sprung forward, only to receive 
the sharp end of the spade straight between his 
eyes. 

The blow was as if it had been delivered by an axe. 
It made a frightful cut, and the blood rushed forth 
in a torrent. 

With a mad cry of pain the bull backed out. At 


198 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


first I thought he was going to charge me again, but 
evidently the blow was too much for him, for with 
several moans he turned, and with his head hanging 
down, he staggered across the garden to the alley and 
disappeared. 


CHAPTER XXYI 


SAMMY SIMPSON 

I gave a sigh of relief when the bull was gone. 
The encounter with the mad animal had been no 
laughing matter. I had once heard of a man being 
gored to death by just such an infuriated creature, 
and I considered that I had had a narrow escape. I 
put my hand to my forehead and found the cold sweat 
standing out upon it. Taking my handkerchief, I 
mopped it away. 

“ Are you hurt ? ” inquired the lady, with great 
solicitation. 

“No, ma’am,” I replied. “But it was a close 
shave ! ” 

“ Indeed it was. And you saved my Millie’s life ! 
How can I thank you ! ” 

“ I didn’t do so much. I guess she’s scared a good 
bit.” 

“ She hardly realized the danger, dear child. Did 
you, Millie, my pet ? ” 

“ The bad cow wanted to eat up my dollies,” ex- 
claimed the little miss, with a grave shake of the head. 
“ But oo helped me,” she added, to me. 

199 


200 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“ I’m glad I was here,” I returned. 

“ May I ask how you happened to come in ? ” con- 
tinued the lady. 

In a few words I told my story. I had hardly 
finished when the hack door opened and a gentleman 
stepped out. 

“ What is the trouble here ? ” he asked anxiously. 
“ I just heard that a mad bull had run into the 
garden.” 

“ So he did, James ; a savage monster indeed. This 
young man just beat him off and saved Millie’s life.” 

“ Hardly that,” I put in modestly. I did not want 
more praise than I was justly entitled to receive. 

“ Indeed, but he did. See the spade covered with 
blood ? Had he not hit the animal over the head with 
that, something dreadful would have happened.” 

“ I didn’t hit him exactly,” I laughed. “ I held it 
up and he ran against it,” and once more I told my 
story. 

“ You have done us a great service, young man,” 
said the gentleman when I had concluded. “I was 
once in the butcher business myself, — in fact, I am in 
it yet, but only in the export trade, — and I know full 
^ell how dangerous bulls can get. Had it not been 
for you my little girl might have been torn to pieces. 
One of her dolls is dressed in red, and this would have 
attracted the bull’s immediate attention. I thank you 
deeply.” He grasped my hand warmly. “May I ask 
your name ? ” 


SAMMY SIMPSON 


201 


“Roger Strong, sir.” 

“My name is Harrison — James Harrison. You 
live here in Chicago, I suppose ? ” 

“ No, sir, I come from Darby ville, New Jersey.” 

“ Darby ville ? ” He thought a moment. “ I never 
heard of such a town.” 

“It is only a small place several miles from New 
York. I came to Chicago on business. I arrived 
about half an hour ago.” 

“ Really ? Your introduction into our city has been 
rather an exciting one.” 

“ I’ve had other adventures fully as exciting in the 
past few days,” I returned. 

“ Yes ?” and Mr. Harrison eyed me curiously. 

“ Yes. Our train was delayed, I almost had my 
handbag stolen, and I’ve been arrested as a thief.” 

“ And all in a half an hour ? ” The gentleman and 
his wife both looked incredulous. 

“No, sir ; since I’ve left home.” 

“I should like to hear your story — that is, if you 
care to tell it.” 

“ I will tell you the whole thing if you care to 
listen,” I returned, reflecting that my newly made 
friend might give me some material assistance in my 
quest. 

“Then come into the house.” 

“I’d better shut the alley gate first,” said I, and 
running down I did so, and picked up my handbag as 
well. 


202 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


Mr. Harrison led the way inside. I could not help 
but note the rich furnishings of the place — the soft 
carpets, artistically papered walls, the costly pictures 
and bric-a-brac, all telling of wealth. 

Mrs. Harrison and the little girl had disappeared up 
the stairs. Mr. Harrison ushered me into his library 
and motioned me to a seat. 

I hardly knew how to begin my story. To show 
how John Stumpy had had me arrested, it would be 
necessary to go back to affairs at Darbyville, and this 
I hesitated about doing. 

“ If you have time I would like to tell you about my 
affairs before I started to come to Chicago,” I said. “ I 
would like your advice.” 

The gentleman looked at the clock resting upon the 
mantel shelf. 

“ I have an engagement at eleven o’clock,” he re- 
turned. “Until then I am entirely at your service, 
and will be in the afternoon if you desire it. I’ll 
promise to give you the best advice I can.” 

“ Thank you. I am a stranger here, and most people 
won’t pay much attention to a boy,” I replied. 

Then I told my story in full just as I have written it 
here. Mr. Harrison was deeply interested. 

“It is a strange case,” he said, when I had con- 
cluded. “ These men must be thorough rascals, every 
one of them. Of course it yet remains to be seen what 
this Chris Holtzmann has to do with the affair. He 


SAMMY SIMPSON 


203 


may be made to give evidence for or against your 
father just as he is approached. I think I would be 
careful at the first meeting.” 

“ I did not intend to let him know who I was.” 

“ A good plan.” 

“But now if I venture on the street I may be 
arrested,” I went on. 

“ It is not likely. Chicago is a big city, and unless 
the officer who arrested you before meets you, it is 
improbable that he can give an accurate enough descrip- 
tion of you for others to identify you. Then again, 
having failed in his duty, he may not report the case 
at all.” 

“ That’s so ; but if I do run across him — ” 

“ Then send for me. Here is my card. If I can be 
of service to you, I shall be glad.” 

Mr. Harrison gave me minute directions how to 
reach Holtzmann’s place. Then it was time for him 
to go, and we left the house together. I promised to 
call on him again before quitting Chicago. 

It was with a lighter heart that I went on my way. 
In some manner I felt that I had at least one friend in 
the big city, to whom I could turn for advice and 
assistance. 

Guided by the directions Mr. Harrison had given 
me, I had no difficulty in making my way in the direc- 
tion of Chris Holtzmann’s place of business or house, 
whatever it might prove to be. 


204 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


As I passed up one street and down another, I could 
not help but look about me with great curiosity. If 
Chicago was not New York, it was “ next door ” to it, 
and I could have easily spent the entire day in sight- 
seeing. 

But though my eyes were taking in all that was to be 
seen, my mind was busy speculating upon the future. 
What would Chris Holtzmann think of my visit, and 
what would be the result of our interview ? 

At length I turned down the street upon which his 
place was located. It was a wide and busy thorough- 
fare, lined with shops of all kinds. Saloons were nu- 
merous, and from several of them came the sounds of 
lively music. 

“Can you tell me where Chris Holtzmann’s place 
is ? ” I asked of a man on the corner. 

“Holtzmann’s? Sure! Down on the next corner.” 

“ Thank you.” 

“Variety actor?” went on the man, curiously. 

“ Oh, no ! ” I laughed. 

“Thought not. They’re generally pretty tough — 
the ones Chris hires.” 

“ Does he have a variety theatre ? ” 

“That’s what he calls it. But it’s nothing but a 
concert hall with jugglers and tumblers thrown in.” 

I did not relish the idea of going into such a place, 
and I knew that my sister Kate and the Widow Canby 
would be horrified when they heard of it. 


SAMMY SIMPSON 


205 


“ What kind of a man is this Holtzmann ? ” I contin- 
ued, seeing that the man I had accosted was inclined 
to talk. 

“ Oh, he’s a good enough kind of a fellow if j r ou 
know how to take him,” was the reply. “ He’s a bit 
cranky if he’s had a glass too much, but that don’t 
happen often.” 

44 Does he run the place himself? ” 

“ What, tend bar and so ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

44 Oh, no ; he’s too high-toned for that. He only 
bosses things. They say he’s rich. He came from 
the East some years ago with quite a little money, and 
he’s been adding to it ever since.” 

44 Then you know him quite well ? ” 

u W orked for him two years. Then he up one day 
and declared I was robbing him. We had a big row, 
and I got out.” 

44 Did he have you arrested ? ” 

44 Arrested? Not much. He knew better than to try 
such a game on me. When I was in his employ I kept 
my eyes and ears open, and I knew too much about his 
private affairs for him to push me, even if I had been 
guilty. Oh, Sammy Simpson knows a thing or two.” 

44 That is your name ? ” 

44 Yes ; Samuel A. Simpson. Generally called Sammy 
for short. I was his bookkeeper and corresponding 
clerk.” 


206 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“ Maybe you’re just the man I want to see,” I said. 
“Do you know anything about Mr. Holtzmann’s pri- 
vate affairs in the East ? ” 

“In Brooklyn?” 

“ Yes.” 

Sammy Simpson hesitated for a moment. 

“ Maybe I do,” he replied, with a shrewd look in his 
eyes. “ Is there anything to be made out of it ? ” 

“ I will pay you for whatever you do for me.” 

“Then I’m your huckleberry. Who are you and 
what do you want to know ? ” 


CHAPTER XXVII 


THE PALACE OF PLEASURE 

Mr. Sammy Simpson was a character. He was tall 
and slim, certainly not less than fifty years of age, but 
with an evident desire to appear much younger. His 
face was cleanly shaven, and when he removed his hat 
to scratch his head I saw that he was nearly bald. 

He was dressed in a light check suit and wore patent- 
leather shoes. I put him down as a dandy, but fond 
of drink, and that he proved to be. 

“ Whom do you work for now ? ” I asked. 

“No one. To tell the truth, I’m down on my luck 
and I’m waiting for something to turn up.” 

“ You say you worked for Holtzmann two years 
ago ? ” 

“No, I said I worked for him two years. I only left 
last month.” 

“ And he accused you of stealing ? ” 

“ Yes ; but it was only to get rid of me because I 
knew too much of his private affairs.” 

“ What do you know of his private affairs ? ” 

Sammy Simpson rubbed his chin. 

207 


208 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“ Excuse me, but who am I talking to ? ” he asked 
abruptly. 

“ Never mind who I am. I am here to get all the 
information I can about Chris Holtzmann, and I’m will- 
ing to pay for it. Of course I’m not rich, but I’ve got 
a few dollars. If you can’t help me I’ll have to go 
elsewhere.” 

My plain speech startled Sammy Simpson. 

“ Hold up ; don’t get mad because I asked your 
name. You’ve a perfect right to keep it to yourself 
if you want to. Only make it sure to me that I’ll get 
paid for what I tell and it will be all right.” 

I was perplexed. I had half a mind to mention Mr. 
Harrison’s name, but if I did that, the man might ex- 
pect altogether too much. 

“ I will promise you that you lose nothing,” I said. 
“ But we can’t talk things over in the street. Tell me 
where I can meet you later on.” 

“ Want to see Holtzmann first ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“You won’t get anything out of him, I’ll wager you 
that.” 

“ I don’t expect to. I want to see what kind of a 
man he is.” 

“ Well, you’ll find me at 28 Hallock Street generally. 
If I’m not in, you can find out there where I’ve gone 
to.” 

“ I’ll remember it. In the meantime don’t speak of 
this meeting to any one.” 


THE PALACE OF PLEASURE 


209 


“Mum’s the word,” rejoined Sammy Simpson. 

I went on my way deep in thought. I considered it 
a stroke of luck that I had fallen in with Chris Holtz- 
mann’s former clerk. No doubt the man knew much 
that would prove of value to me. 

I doubted if this man was perfectly honest. I was 
satisfied that the concert-hall manager had had good 
grounds for discharging him. But it often “ takes a 
rogue to catch a rogue,” and I was willing to profit by 
any advantage that came to hand. 

At length I reached the next corner. On it stood 
a splendid building of marble, having over the door in 
raised letters : — 

CHRIS HOLTZMANN’S 
Palace of Pleasure. 

Open all the Time. Admission Free ! 

For a moment I hesitated. Should I enter such a 
hole of iniquity ? 

Then came the thought of my mission; how I wished 
to clear the family name from the stain that rested 
upon it and free my father from imprisonment, and I 
went in. 

I do not care to describe the scene that met my eyes. 
The magnificent decorations of the place were to my 
mind entirely out of keeping with its character. The 
foulness of a subcellar would have been more appro- 
priate. 

p 


210 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


In the back, where a stage was located, were a num- 
ber of small tables. I sat down at one of these and had 
a waiter bring me a glass of soda water. 

“ Is Mr. Holtzmann about ? ” I asked. 

“ Yes, sir. There he is over by the cigar counter. 
Shall I caH him? ” 

“No.” 

I paid for my soda and sipped it leisurely. The 
place was about half full, and all attention was being 
paid to “ Master Ardon, the "Wonderful Boy Dancer,” 
who was doing a clog on the stage. 

Mr. Chris Holtzmann was very much the style of a 
man I had imagined him to be. He was short and 
stout, with a thick neck and a double chin. He was 
loudly dressed, including several seal rings and a heavy 
gold watch chain. 

I calculated that he would be a hard man to ap- 
proach, and now that I was face to face with him I 
hardly knew how to proceed. 

At first I thought to ask him for a situation of some 
kind and thus get on speaking terms with him, but 
concluded that openness would pay best in the end, and 
so, rising, I approached him. 

“ Mr. Holtzmann, I believe ? ” I began. 

“ Yes,” he said slowly, looking me over from head 
to foot. 

“If you please I would like to have a talk with 
you,” I went on. 


THE PALACE OF PLEASURE 


211 


“ What is it ? ” and he turned his ear toward me. 

44 I have come all the way from Darbyville, New Jer- 
sey, to see you.” 

44 What ! ” He started. “ And what is your busi- 
ness with me, sir ? ” he went on sharply. 

44 I would like to see you in private,” and I glanced 
at the clerk and several others who were staring at us. 

“ Come to my office,” he returned, and led the way 
through a door at one side, into a handsomely furnished 
apartment facing the side street. 

44 Ross, you can post the letters,” he said to a clerk 
who was writing at a desk. 44 Be back in half an hour.” 

It was a hint that we were to be left alone, and the 
clerk was not long in gathering up the letters that had 
been written, and leaving. 

44 1 suppose W oodward sent you,” began Chris Holtz- 
mann, wffien we were seated. 

This remark nearly took away my breath. I thought 
he would deny all knowledge of having ever known 
the merchant, and here he was mentioning the man at 
the very start. 

I hardly knew how to reply, and he continued : — 

44 I’ve been expecting him for several days.” 

44 Well, you know there was an accident on the rail- 
road,” I began as coolly as I could. “The bridge 
shifted and the trains couldn’t run.” 

44 Yes, I heard of that.” He paused for a moment. 
44 What brought you?” 


212 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


This was a home question. I plunged in like a 
swimmer into a deep stream. 

“ I came to get the papers relating to the Strong 
forgeries. You have all of them, I suppose.” 

T was surprised at my own boldness. So was my 
listener. 

“ Sh ! not so loud,” he exclaimed. “ Who said I had 
the papers ? ” 

“John Stumpy spoke about them to Mr. Woodward.” 

“ He did, eh ? ” sneered Chris Holtzmann. “ He had 
better keep his mouth shut. How does he know but 
what the papers were destroyed long ago ? ” 

“ I hope not,” I replied earnestly. 

“ What does Woodward want of the papers ? ” 

“I don’t know exactly. The Strong family are 
going to have the case opened again, and he’s afraid 
they may be dragged in.” 

“No one knows I have them but him, Stumpy — and 
you.” He gave me a suspicious glance. “Who are — ” 

“ The Strongs know,” I put in hastily, thus cutting 
him off. 

“ What ! ” He jumped up from his chair. “ Who 
was fool enough to tell them?” 

“Nicholas Weaver left a dying statement — ” 

“ The idiot ! I always said he was a weak-minded 
fool ! ” cried Chris Holtzmann. “ Who has this state- 
ment ? ” 

“ I don’t know where it is now, but Carson Strong’s 
son had it.” 


THE PALACE OF PLEASURE 


213 


“Strong’s son ! Great Scott ! Then Woodward’s 
goose is cooked. I always told him he hadn’t covered 
.up his tracks.” 

“Yes, but he paid you pretty well for your share of 
the work,” I returned. I was getting mixed. The 
deception could not be kept up much longer, and I 
wondered what would happen when the truth became 
known. 

“ Didn’t pay me half of what I should have got. I 
helped him not only in Brooklyn, but here in Chicago 
as well. How would he have accounted for all his 
money if I hadn’t had a rich aunt die and leave it to 
him ? ” Chris Holtzmann gave a short laugh. “ I 
reckon that was a neat plan of mine.” 

“ You ran a big risk.” 

“So we did — but it paid.” 

“And John Stumpy helped, too.” 

“ He did in a way. But he drank too much to be 
of any great use. By the way, do you drink ? ” 

As Holtzmann spoke he opened a closet at one side 
of the room, behind a screen, and brought forth a bottle 
of liquor and a pair of glasses. 

“ No, thank you,” I replied. 

“ No ? Have a cigar, then.” 

“Thank you ; I don’t smoke.” 

“ What ! Don’t smoke or drink ! That’s queer. 
Wish I could say the same. Mighty expensive habits. 
What did you say your name was ? ” 


214 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


At this instant there was a knock on the door, and 
Chris Holtzmann walked back of the screen and 
opened it. 

“ A man to see you, sir,” I heard a voice say. 

“ Who is it ? ” asked Chris Holtzmann. 

“Says his name is Aaron Woodward.” 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


A DEAL FOR A THOUSAND DOLLARS 

I was thunderstruck by the announcement that Mr. 
Aaron Woodward was waiting to come in. Had it 
been John Stumpy who was announced, I would not 
have been so much surprised. But Aaron Woodward ! 
The chase after me was indeed getting hot. 

Evidently the merchant was not satisfied to leave 
affairs in Chicago entirely in his confederate’s hands. 
Either he did not trust Stumpy or else the matter was 
of too much importance. 

I did not give these thoughts close attention at the 
time, but revolved them in my mind later. Just now 
I was trying to resolve what was best to do. Would it 
be advisable for me to remain or had I better get out ? 

To retire precipitately might not be “ good form,” but 
it might save me a deal of trouble. I had had one 
“ round ” with the merchant in his mansion in Darby- 
ville, and I was not particularly anxious for another en- 
counter. I was but a boy, and between the two men 
they might carry “too many guns” for me. 

I looked around for some immediate means of 
215 


216 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


escape. As I have said, the office was located on 
the side street. Directly in front of the desk was a 
large window, opened to let in the fresh morning air. 
For me to think was to act. In less than a minute I 
was seated on the desk with my legs dangling over 
the window sill. 

“Aaron Woodward ! ” repeated Chris Holtzmann, in 
evident surprise. 

“Yes, sir, and he says he must see you at once.” 

“ Did you hear that ? ” called out Holtzmann to me. 

“ Yes, I did,” I returned as coolly as I could. 

“ Did you expect him? ” 

“No.” 

“ Humph ! ” 

Holtzmann made a movement as if to step into view, 
and I prepared to vanish from the scene. But he 
changed his mind and walked from the office. 

I was in a quandary. To remain would place me in 
great peril, yet I was anxious to know the result of the 
meeting between the two men. They were the prime 
movers in my father’s downfall, and nothing must be 
left undone to bring them to justice. 

I resolved to remain, even if it were at the peril of my 
life. I was not an over-brave boy, but the thought of 
my father languishing in prison because of these men’s 
misdeeds, nerved me to stay. 

The closet door was still open, and that gave me 
a sudden idea. 


A DEAL FOR A THOUSAND DOLLARS 217 

As I jumped from the desk another idea struck me, 
and without any hesitation I scattered the papers on 
the floor and upset the ink-well. 

Then I squeezed myself into the closet, crouching 
down into one corner, behind several canes and 
umbrellas. 

I was not an instant too soon, for hardly had I settled 
myself than the door opened, and Chris Holtzmann 
reentered, followed by Mr. Aaron Woodward. 

Both men were highly excited, and both uttered an 
exclamation when they saw the room was empty. 

“ He’s gone ! ” cried Holtzmann. 

“ Gone ? ” repeated the merchant. “ Get out, Holtz- 
mann ! He was never here.” 

“ I say he was, less than two minutes ago.” 

“Well, where is he now?” 

“ I don’t know. Ha ! I see it ! He has jumped 
through the window ! See how he has upset the ink 
and scattered the papers. It’s as clear as day.” 

“ Can you see anything of him outside ? ” 

Chris Holtzmann leaned out of the window. 

“No ; he’s up and around the corner long ago.” 

“ We must catch the rascal,” went on Mr. Woodward, 
in a high voice. “ He knows too much; he will ruin 
us both.” 

“Ruin us both?” sneered the proprietor of the 
Palace of Pleasure. “I don’t see how he can ruin 
me.” 


218 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


44 You’re in it just as deep as I am — just as deep.” 

44 Not a bit of it,” returned Holtzmann, with spirit. 
44 You are the only one who profited by the whole trans- 
action, and you are the one to take the blame.” 

44 See here, Chris, you’re not going back on me in this 
way,” exclaimed the merchant, in a tone of reproach. 

44 I’m not going back on you at all, Woody. But you 
can’t use me as you used John Stumpy. It won’t 
go down.” 

44 Now don’t get excited, Chris.” 

44 I’m not excited. But I know a thing or two just 
as well as you do. If there is any exposure to take 
place, you must stand the brunt of it. You were a fool 
to let the boy get ahead of you.” 

44 1 didn’t ; it was Stumpy. He let the boy get hold 
of Nick Weaver’s statement, and that started the thing. 
Then the boy stole some of my papers that were in 
my desk, and how much information he has now I 
don’t know.” 

44 All your own fault,” responded Holtzmann, coolly. 
44 Why don’t you destroy all the evidence on hand ? ” 

44 Do you do that? ” asked Mr. Woodward, furiously. 

44 1 do when I think it isn’t going to do me any more 
good,” replied Holtzmann, evasively. 

44 Have you destroyed all the evidence in this matter? ” 

Holtzmann closed one eye. 44 I’m not so green as you 
take me to be,” he replied impressively. 44 All my evi- 
dence against you is locked up in my safe.” 


A DEAL FOE A THOUSAND DOLLAKS 219 

“You intend to use it against me?” said the 
merchant. 

“ Only if it becomes necessary.” 

“ And yet you pretend to be a friend of mine.” 

“I was until you cheated me out of my fair share of 
the spoils. But I am satisfied, and willing to let the 
whole matter rest.” 

“ What will you take for the papers you hold ? ” 

“ W ouldn’t sell them at any price. I’m not running 
my head into any trap.” 

“ It will be all right.” 

“Maybe it will, but I’ll run no risk.” He paused 
a moment. “ I’ll tell you what I will do. Give me 
a thousand dollars and I’ll let you see me burn them 
up.” 

I was intensely surprised at this proposition, more 
so, I believe, than was Mr. Woodward. 

“ A thousand dollars ! ” he exclaimed. “ Chris, 
you’re crazy.” 

“No, indeed. I know a thing or two. What do 
you suppose the Strongs would pay for them ? ” 

“ You don’t mean to say you would play me false ? ” 
ejaculated the merchant, hoarsely. 

“I mean to say I’d do anything to save myself if 
you got us into a hole. As far as I can see, you have 
allowed this boy to get the best of you at every turn.” 

“Humph! You needn’t talk. You let him walk 
right into your confidence the first thing.” 


220 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“ Only when he told me all about your affairs.” 

“ Well, let that drop. Can’t you let me have the 
papers cheaper ? ” 

“ I said I wouldn’t let you have the papers at all. 
I’ll burn them up.” 

“ W ill you let me see them ? ” 

Chris Holtzmann’s brow contracted. 

“ What for?” 

“Oh* I only want to make sure of what you’ve 
got.” 

“ Will you pay the price ? ” 

“ Make them cheaper.” 

“ No.” 

“ I’ll take them.” 

“ You mean have them burnt up.” 

“ Yes. But I must examine them first.” 

“ I’m willing. And I must have my check before 
they go into the fire.” 

“ You are very suspicious, Chris, very suspicious.” 

“No more so than you, Woody. I wasn’t born 
yesterday.” 

“Well, let’s have the papers and I’ll write out the 
check. But it must be understood that you give no 
more information to the boy.” 

“ Give him information ! ” cried Holtzmann. “ Let 
him show his face here again and I’ll break every bone 
in his body,” he added grimly. 

This was certainly an interesting bit of news. I 


A DEAL FOR A THOUSAND DOLLARS 


221 




made up my mind that to be seen would render 
matters decidedly warm for me. 

But I was even more interested over the fact that 
the two men intended to burn up part of the evidence 
that might clear my father’s name. Such a thing 
must not happen. I must use every means in my 
power to prevent it. 

Yet what was to be done? If the documents 
were produced at once, how could I save them from 
destruction ? 

A bold dash for them seemed the only way. Once 
snatched from Holtzmann’s or Aaron Woodward’s 
hands, and escape through the window or the door 
would be difficult, but not impossible. 

Yet while I was revolving these thoughts over in 
my mind the same thing evidently suggested itself 
to the proprietor of the Palace of Pleasure. 

“Wait till I lock the door,” he said. “ We don’t 
want to be interrupted.” 

“No indeed,” returned Mr. Woodward; “inter- 
ruptions don’t pay.” 

“And I’ll close the window, too,” went on Holtz- 
mann ; “it’s cool enough without having it open.” 

« So it is.” 

So the window and the door were both closed and 
fastened. I was chagrined, but could do nothing. 

A moment later I heard Chris Holtzmann at his safe, 
and then the rattle of something on his desk. 


222 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“ The papers are in this tin box,” he said. “ I placed 
them there over six months ago.” 

He opened the box, and I heard a rustling of 
documents. 

“Why — why — what does this mean!” he ejacu- 
lated. “ They are not here ! ” 

“ What ! ” cried Mr. Aaron W oodward, aghast. 

“ The papers are not here ! ” Holtzmann hurried over 
to his safe and began a hasty search. “As sure as 
you’re born, Woody, they have been stolen ! ” 

“ It’s that boy,” exclaimed the merchant. “ He’s 
a wizard of a sly one. He has stolen them, and we 
are lost I ” 


CHAPTER XXIX 


THE PRECIOUS PAPERS 

I WAS not as much surprised over the situation 
as were the two men. I could put two and two 
together as quickly as any one, and I knew exactly 
where the papers were to be found. 

Sammy Simpson, of 28 Hallock Street, was the 
thief. He had intimated that he had evidence against 
Chris Holtzmann, and these papers were that evidence-. 

This being so, there was no further use for my 
remaining in my cramped position in the closet, and 
I longed for a chance for escape. It was not long in 
coming. 

“ I don’t see how that boy managed it,” said Holtz- 
mann. “ He was alone only a few minutes.” 

“Never mind. He’s as smart as a steel trap. Was 
the safe door open ? ” 

“Yes. My clerk left it open. He is a new one 
and rather careless. What’s to be done ? ” 

“I’m going after the rascal,” cried Aaron Wood- 
ward. 

“ You’ll have a fine time finding him here in 
Chicago.” 


224 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“ I must find him. Most likely when he discovers 
how valuable the papers are he’ll he off at once for 
home with them. I can intercept him at the depot.” 

“That’s an idea, if you can locate the right depot.” 

“ I’ll he off at once,” went on Mr. Woodward. 

“ I’ll go with you,” returned Chris Holtzmann, and 
three minutes later the two men quitted the office, 
locking the door after them. 

I waited several minutes to make sure they were 
not returning, and then emerged from my hiding- 
place. 

I was stiff in every joint and nearly stifled from the 
hot air in the closet. But at present I gave these 
personal matters scant attention, my mind being bent 
upon escape. 

Even if the door had been unlocked, I would not 
have chosen it as a means of egress. It led into the 
main hall of the Palace of Pleasure, and here I might 
meet some one to bar my escape. 

The window was close at hand, and I threw it open. 
The noise I made did not frighten me, for in the main 
hall a loud orchestra was drowning out every other 
sound. 

I looked out and saw a number of people walking 
up and down the street. No one appeared to be 
watching me, and waiting a favorable opportunity, I 
slid out of the window to the sidewalk below. 

With my ever present handbag beside me I hurried 


THE PRECIOUS PAPERS 


225 


down the side street as fast as my feet would carry 
me. The neighborhood of the Palace of Pleasure was 
dangerous for me, and I wished to get away from it 
as quickly as possible. 

After travelling several blocks I slackened my pace 
and dropped into a rapid walk. Coming to a fruit- 
stand, I invested in a couple of bananas, and then 
asked its proprietor where Hallock Street was. 

“ Sure an’ it’s the first street beyant the cable road,” 
was the reply. 

“ And where is the cable road ? ” I queried. 

“Two squares that way, sor,” and the woman 
pointed it out. 

I thanked her and hurried on. When I reached 
the street, I found the numbers ran in the three hun- 
dreds, and I had quite a walk to the southward to 
reach No. 28. 

At length I stood in front of the house. It was a 
common-looking affair, and the vicinity was not one 
to be chosen by fastidious people. The street, side- 
walks, and doorways all looked dirty and neglected. 
I concluded that since being discharged Sammy 
Simpson had come down in the world. 

“ Does Mr. Simpson live here ? ” I asked of a slip 
of a girl who sat on the stoop, nursing a ragged doll. 

“ Yes, sir; on the third floor in the front,” she replied. 

I climbed up the creaky stairs two flights, and 
rapped on the door. 

Q 


226 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“Come,” said a voice, and I entered. The room 
was the barest kind of a kitchen. By the open 
window sat a thin, pale woman, holding a child. 

“ Does Mr. Samuel Simpson live here ? ” I asked. 

“ Yes, sir, but he’s not in now,” she returned. “ Can 
I do anything for you ? ” 

“I guess not.” t 

“ I hope — I hope there is nothing wrong,” she went 
on falteringly. 

“Wrong?” I queried. I did not quite understand 
her. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ Not exactly. What makes you think so ? ” 

“ Because he drinks so,” she replied. 

“ I wish to get some information from him ; that is 
all,” I returned. 

As I concluded, a heavy step sounded in the hall, 
and an instant later Sammy Simpson appeared. He 
had evidently been imbibing freely, for his voice was 
thick and his sentences muddled. 

“ Hello ! ” he cried. “ You here already, eh ! What 
brought you? Want to find out all about Chris 
Holtzmann ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Thought so. Saw it in your eye. Yes, sir, your 
optic betrayed you. Sit down. Mag, give Mr. 
What’s-his-name a chair. I’ll sit down myself.” 
And he sank heavily down on a low bench, threw 


THE PRECIOUS PAPERS 


227 


one leg over the other, and clasped his hands on his 
knee. 

“ I want to see those documents you took from Mr. 
Holtzmann’s safe,” I began boldly. 

He started slightly and stared at me. 

“ Who said I took any document out of his safe ? ” 

“Didn’t you say so? I mean the ones relating to 
Holtzmann’s affairs in Brooklyn.” 

“ Well, yes, I did.” 

“ I want to see them.” 

“Again I ask, what is there in it?” he exclaimed 
dramatically. 

“ If they really prove of value to me, I will pay you 
well for all your trouble,” I replied. 

“ Is that straight ? ” he asked thickly. 

“It is,” I replied, and, I may as well add, I was 
thoroughly disgusted with the man. 

“Then I’m yours truly, and no mistake. Excuse 
me till I get them.” 

He rose unsteadily and left the room. Hardly had 
he gone before his wife hurried to my side. 

“ Oh, sir, I hope you are not getting him into 
trouble ? ” she cried. “ He is a good man when he 
is sober; indeed he is.” 

“ I am not going to harm him, madam. A great 
wrong has been done, and I only want your husband 
to assist me in righting it. He has papers that can 
do it.” 


228 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“You are telling me the truth?” she questioned 
earnestly. 

“ Yes, ma’am.” 

“ I think I can trust you,” she said slowly. “ You 
look honest. And these papers — ought you to have 
them ? ” 

“ Yes. If your husband does not give them up, he 
will certainly get into great trouble.” 

“ You are young, and you don’t look as if you would 
lie. If Sam has the papers, he shall give them to you. 
He’s coming now.” 

“ Here’s all the evidence in the case,” said Sammy 
Simpson, on returning. He held a thick and long 
envelope. “ What’s the value to you ? ” 

“ I can tell better after I have examined them,” 
I returned. 

“ Will you give them back if I let you see them? ” 

“ Yes.” 

He handed the precious papers to me and then sat 
down. 

Oh, how eagerly I grasped the envelope ! How 
much of importance it might contain for me ! 

There were three letters and four legal papers. 
Like Nicholas Weaver’s statement, all were badly 
written, and I had a hard job to decipher even a 
portion of the manuscript. 

Yet I made out enough to learn that Aaron Wood- 
ward was the forger of the notes and checks that had 


THE PRECIOUS PAPERS 


229 


sent my father to prison, and that the death of a rela- 
tive in Chicago was only a pretence. The work had 
been done in Brooklyn through that branch of Hol- 
land & Mack’s establishment. Chris Holtzmann had 
helped in the scheme, and John Stumpy had presented 
one of the checks, for which service he had received 
six hundred dollars. This much was clear to me. 
But two other points still remained dark. 

One was of a certain Ferguson connected with the 
scheme, who seemed to be intimate with my father. 
He was probably the man my father had mentioned 
when we had visited him at the prison. His connec- 
tion with the affair was far from clear. 

The other dark point in the case was concerning 
Agatha Mitts, of 648 Vannack Avenue, Brooklyn. 
She was a boarding-mistress, and the three or four 
men had stopped at her house. But how much she 
knew of their doings I could not tell. 

“Well, what do you think?” muttered Sammy 
Simpson. “Mighty important, I’ll be bound.” 

“Not so very important,” I returned, as coolly as 
I could. “ They will be if I can get hold of other 
papers to use with them.” 

“Exactly, sir; just as I always said. Well, you 
can get them easily enough, no doubt.” 

“I don’t know about that,” I said doubtfully. 

“No trouble at all. Come, what will you give ? ” 

“ Five dollars.” 


230 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“Ha! ha! They’re worth a million.” He blinked 
hard at me. “ Say, you’re a friend of mine, a good 
boy. Meg, shall I give them to him?” 

“ You ought to do what’s right, Sam,” replied his 
wife, severely. 

“ So I ought. You’re a good woman ; big improve- 
ment on a chap like me. Say, young man, give my 
lady ten dollars, keep the papers, and clear out. I’m 
drunk, and when Sammy Simpson’s drunk he’s a fool.” 

I handed over the money without a word. Perhaps 
I was taking advantage of the man’s present state, but 
I considered I was doing things for the best. 

A minute later, with the precious papers in my 
pocket, I left. 


CHAPTER XXX 


THE TRAIN FOR NEW YORK 

Down in the street I hesitated as to where to go 
next. I felt that the case on hand was getting too 
complicated for me, and that I needed assistance. 

I did not relish calling on the police for help. They 
were probably on the watch for me, and even if not, 
they would deem me only a boy, and give me scant 
attention. 

My mind reverted to the adventure earlier in the day, 
and I remembered Mr. Harrison’s kind offer. I had 
done his little daughter a good turn, and I was positive 
the gentleman would assist me to the best of his ability. 

I decided to call on him at once. I had his address 
still in my pocket, and though I was quite tired, I hur- 
ried along at a rapid rate. 

On the way I revolved in my mind all that had 
occurred within the past two hours, and by the time 
I reached Mr. Harrison’s place I had the matter in 
such shape that I could tell a clear, straightforward' 
story. 

I found the gentleman in, and pleased at my return. 

231 


232 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“ I was afraid you had gotten into more difficulties,” 
he explained, with a smile. 

“ So I did, but I got out of them again,” I replied. 

Sitting down, I gave him the particulars of my 
visit to Chris Holtzmann and to Sammy Simpson, and 
handed over the documents for inspection. Mr. Har- 
rison was deeply interested, and examined the papers 
with great care. It took him nearly an hour to do so, 
and then he plied me with numerous questions. 

“ Do you know what my advice is ? ” he asked, at 
length. 

“No, sir.” 

“ I advise you to have both Holtzmann and W ood- 
ward arrested at once. They are thorough rascals, and 
your father is the innocent victim of their cupidity.” 

“ But how can I do that ? No one knows me here in 
Chicago.” 

“ Hold up, you make a mistake. I know you.” 

“ Yes, but you don’t know anything about me,” 
I began. 

“ I know you to be a brave fellow, and brave people 
are generally honest. Besides, your face speaks for 
itself.” 

“You are very kind.” 

“ I have not forgotten the debt I owe you, and what- 
ever I do for you will never fully repay it.” 

“And you advise me — ” 

“ To put the case in the hands of the police without 


THE TRAIN FOR NEW YORK 


233 


delay. Come, I will go with you. Perhaps this Holtz- 
mann may he frightened into a confession.” 

“ I trust so. It will save a good deal of trouble.” 

“ W oodward can be taken into custody as soon as the 
necessary papers are made out,” concluded Mr. Har- 
rison. 

An instant later we were on the way. I wondered 
what had become of John Stumpy. It was strange that 
he had not turned up at the Palace of Pleasure. Per- 
haps Mr. Aaron Woodward had intercepted him and 
either scared or bought him off. 

The fellow held much evidence that I wished to 
obtain, for every letter or paper against Mr. Wood- 
ward would make my father’s case so much stronger, 
and I determined with all my heart that when once 
brought to trial there should be no failure to punish 
the guilty, so that the innocent might be acquitted. 

At the police station we found the sergeant in 
charge. Mr. Harrison was well known in the locality, 
and his presence gained at once for us a private 
audience. 

The officer of the law gave the case his closest atten- 
tion, and asked me even more questions than had been 
put to me before. 

“ I remember reading of this affair in the court 
records,” he said. “Judge Fowler and I were saying 
what a peculiar case it was. Chris Holtzmann claims 
to keep a first-class resort, and I would hardly dare to 


234 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


proceed against him were it not for these papers, and 
yon, Mr. Harrison.” 

“ You will arrest him at once ? ” questioned the 
gentleman. 

“ If you say so.” 

“ I do, most assuredly. ” 

“ You are interested in the case ? ” queried the ser- 
geant, as he prepared to leave. 

“ Only on this young man’s account. He saved my 
little daughter from a horrible death this morning.” 

“ Indeed ? How so ? ” 

“ There was a mad bull broke into my back garden 
from the street, and was about to gore her, when this 
young man, who had been driven into the garden in 
the first place, came between and drove the bull out.” 

“ Oh, I heard of that bull.” 

“ What became of him ? ” I put in curiously. 

“ He was killed by a couple of officers on the next 
block. He was nearly dead before they shot him, 
having received a terrible cut between the eyes.” 

“ Given by this young man,” explained Mr. Harrison. 

“ You don’t mean it ! ” cried the officer, in admira- 
tion. “ Phew ! but you must be strong ! ” 

“It was more by good luck than strength,” I re- 
turned modestly. 

“Nonsense!” said Mr. Harrison. “My wife wit- 
nessed the whole occurrence, and she says it was pure 
bravery.” i 


THE TRAIN FOR NEW YORK 


235 


Five minutes later a cab was called, and we all got 
in. I was not sorry to ride, for my long tramp from 
one place to another on the stone pavement had made 
me footsore. I did not mind walking, but the Darby - 
ville roads were softer than those of Chicago. 

It did not take long to reach the Palace of Pleasure. 

“Just wait in the cab for a minute or two,” said the 
sergeant to me. “ If he sees you first, he may make 
a scene.” 

“ Most likely he’s gone out,” I returned. 

The sergeant and Mr. Harrison left the carriage and 
entered the building. 

I awaited their return impatiently. Would they get 
their man? And would Mr. Aaron Woodward be 
along ? 

Five — ten minutes dragged slowly by. Then the 
two returned. 

“ He’s not in the place, and no one knows where he 
has gone,” said the officer. 

“He can’t be far off,” I replied. “No doubt he and 
Mr. Woodward have gone off to look for me.” 

“ And where ? ” put in Mr. Harrison. I thought a 
moment. 

“ The depot ! ” I exclaimed. “ He spoke about look- 
ing for me there.” 

“ Then we’ll be off at once,” returned the sergeant. 

As he spoke, a familiar figure came shambling around 
the corner. It was Sammy Simpson. 


236 


TEUE TO HIMSELF 


“ Hello, you ! ” he cried, on catching sight of me. 
“ I want those papers back.” 

“ Why do you want them back ? ” I asked. 

“You didn’t pay the value of ’em, didn’t pay 
enough,” he hiccoughed. 

“ I paid all I agreed to.” 

“ Can’t say anything about that. But ’tain’t 
enough.” He glared at me. “Holtzmann said he’d 
pay me a hundred dollars. Yes, sir, ten times as 
much as you.” 

“ When did you see Holtzmann ? ” I cried, in great 
interest. 

“ Saw him about half an hour ago. He came to see 
me — came to see Sammy Simpson — climbed the stairs 
to my abode. Wanted the papers — said I must have 
’em. Went wild with rage when I let slip you had 
’em. So did the other gent.” 

“Who? Mr. Woodward?” 

“That’s the identical name. Yes, sir — the correct 
handle. And they wanted the papers. Offered a 
hundred dollars for ’em. Think of it. Here’s the ten 
dollars — give ’em back.” 

Had Sammy Simpson been sober he would not have 
made such a simple proposition. 

“No, sir,” I replied decidedly. “A bargain’s a 
bargain. I’ve got the papers, and I intend to keep 
them.” 

“ No, you don’t.” 


THE TRAIN FOR NEW YORK 


231 


“ What’s that ? ” broke in the sergeant of police. 

“I want those papers.” 

“ Do you know who I am ? ” 

“No, and don’t care.” 

“ I am sergeant of police, and I want you to behave 
yourself, or I’ll run you in,” was the decided reply. 

At the mention of an officer Sammy Simpson grew 
pale. 

“No, no, don’t do that. I’ve never been arrested 
in my life.” 

“ The papers are in the hands of the proper parties,” 
went on the sergeant. 

“ Then I can’t have ’em back ? ” 

“No ; and the less you have to do with the whole 
matter, the better off you’ll be. Where has Holtzmann 
gone ? ” 

“To Brooklyn.” 

I was astonished. To Brooklyn, and so soon I 

“ You are sure ? ” I queried. 

“Yes; he and the other gent intended to take the 
first train.” 

Here was indeed news. This sudden and unex- 
pected departure must portend something of impor- 
tance. 

“We must catch them! ” I exclaimed. 

“Do you know anything about the trains?” asked 
Mr. Harrison. 


“ No.” 


238 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“Jump in, and we’ll be off to the depot,” said the 
sergeant. 

In an instant we had started, leaving Sammy Simp- 
son standing in the middle of the pavement too aston- 
ished to speak. It was the last I ever saw of the man. 

We made the driver urge his horse at the top of his 
speed. I calculated that the pair would take the same 
line that had brought me to Chicago. 

I was not mistaken; for when we reached the depot 
a few questions put by the sergeant revealed the fact 
that the two men had purchased tickets for New York 
but a minute before. 

“ And when does the train leave ? ” I asked. 

“Her time’s up now.” 

At that instant a bell rang. 

“There’s the bell.” 

“We must catch her,” I cried, and ran through the 
gate and on to the platform. 

But the train was already moving. I tried to catch 
her, but failed; and a minute later the cars rolled out 
of sight. 

Mr. Aaron Woodward and Chris Holtzmann had 
escaped me. 

What was to be done next ? 


CHAPTER XXXI 


IN THE METROPOLIS 

I WAS thoroughly chagrined when I stood on the 
platform and saw the train roll away. Now that I had 
Mr. Harrison and the sergeant of police with me I had 
fondly hoped to capture the two men, even if it was 
at the last minute. 

But now that chance was gone, and as I turned back 
to my two companions I felt utterly nonplussed. 

One thing was perfectly clear in my mind. The 
two men had gone to Brooklyn to see Mrs. Agatha 
Mitts. No doubt they thought that now I had the 
papers Sammy Simpson had stolen in my possession I 
would follow up the train of evidence by calling on the 
woman — a thing I most likely would have done. They 
intended to head me off, and by this means break down 
my case against them at its last stage. 

Yet though I was disappointed I was not disheart- 
ened. I was fighting for honor and intended to keep 
on until not a single thing remained to do. My evi- 
dence against Woodward and Holtzmann was gradually 
accumulating, and sooner or later it must bring them 
to the bar of justice. 


240 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“Well, they’re gone,” I exclaimed, as I joined the 
others. “That is, if they were on that train.” 

“We’ll ask the gateman and make sure,” said the 
sergeant. 

This was done, and we soon learned that beyond a 
doubt Mr. Woodward and Chris Holtzmann had been 
among the departed passengers. 

“ My work in Chicago is at an end,” remarked the 
sergeant, as we stood in the waiting-room discussing 
the situation. 

“ And so is mine,” I replied. “ I’ve got the papers, 
and now the two men are gone, there is no use of my 
remaining.” 

“ What do you intend to do ? ” asked Mr. Harrison. 

“ Follow them to Brooklyn.” 

“To Brooklyn ? It’s a good distance.” 

“I can’t help it; I must go. As for the distance, it 
is not many miles from my home.” 

Mr. Harrison mused for a moment. 

“ I have an idea of going along with you,” he said 
at length. 

“ Going along with me!” I repeated, astonished by 
his offer. 

“Yes; I intended to take a trip to New York on 
special business next week, but I can go to-day instead. 
You no doubt need help, and I want to give it to you.” 

“You are very kind,” I replied. 

“ I would like to see you and your family get your 


IN THE METROPOLIS 


241 


rights,” he went on. “ I wonder when the next train 
leaves.” 

“ I’ll find out at the ticket office,” I replied. 

I walked over to the box, and at the window learned 
that the next train would not start for two hours and 
a half. 

“ That will give me time to go home, pack my valise, 
and arrange my affairs,” said Mr. Harrison. “ Come, 
you can go with me, and we can dine together.” 

“ Thank you,” was my answer. 

“And you, sergeant. I will be pleased to have 
you, too,” continued Mr. Harrison, turning to the 
officer. 

“ You’re kind, Mr. Harrison, but duty calls me else- 
where. I’ll have to return to the station. But you’ve 
forgotten one thing.” 

“ What?” 

“ That you can telegraph to New York and have the 
two men arrested as soon as they arrive.” 

“ That’s so ! What do you say, Strong ? ” 

I thought for a moment. It would be the simplest 
way to do, but would it be the best ? 

“ Don’t you think we had better let them go ahead? ” 
I returned. “We know exactly where they are going, 
and by following them up may gain some additional 
information.” 

“I don’t know but what you are right,” replied Mr. 
Harrison. 


242 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“ Then, in that case, my duty here is at an end,” said 
the sergeant. 

“ I’m very much obliged for the trouble you’ve taken. 
Are there any charges to pay ? ” 

“ None at all. Good day. Hope you will meet with 
success in the future.” 

“ Thank you. If we do, I’ll write you.” 

“Now we’ll jump into a cab at once,” said Mr. 
Harrison, when we were alone. 

A minute later we were whirling along in the direc- 
tion of his mansion. 

“ I hope you are not taking too much trouble on my 
account,” I observed. 

“ I don’t consider it too much,” he replied. “ Even 
if I had no business of my own to call me to New York 
I would go along if I thought I would be of service to 
you. You saved my little girl’s life, and that debt, as 
I have told you before, I can never repay you.” 

We soon reached Mr. Harrison’s mansion. Of course 
Mrs. Harrison was surprised at her husband’s sudden 
determination, but when the situation was explained to 
her, she urged him to do his best for me. 

The dinner served was the most elegant I had ever 
eaten, and despite the excited state of mind I was in, I 
did ample justice to it. Little Millie was present, and 
during the progress of the meal we became great 
friends. 

But all good things must come to an end, and an 


IN THE METROPOLIS 


243 


hour later, each with his handbag, we entered the cab 
and were off. 

On the way we stopped at Mr. Harrison’s office, 
where that gentleman left directions concerning things 
to be done during his absence. Evidently he was a 
thorough business man, and I could not help but won- 
der what he was worth when I saw him place several 
hundred dollars in bills in his pocketbook. 

Arriving at the depot, we found we had just five 
minutes to spare. This Mr. Harrison spent in the 
purchase of a ticket for himself — I had mine — and in 
getting parlor-car seats for both of us. 

It was a novelty to me to have such a soft chair to 
sit in, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. 

As we rode along, my kind friend questioned me 
closely about myself, and I ended by giving him my 
entire history. 

“You’ve had rather a hard row to hoe, and no mis- 
take,” he said. “ It is a dreadful thing to have one’s 
family honor assailed. Many a man has broken down 
completely under it.” 

“ It is so with my father,” I replied. “ He used to 
be as bright as any one, but now he doesn’t have much 
hope of any kind left.” 

In the evening another surprise awaited me. In- 
stead of remaining in the comfortable chair, Mr. Harri- 
son bade me follow him to the sleeping-car, and I was 
assigned as soft a bed as I had ever occupied. I slept 


244 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“ like a top,” resolved to get the full value of so elegant 
an accommodation. When I awoke, it was broad day- 
light. 

I climbed down from my bed and made my toilet 
leisurely. When I had finished, Mr. Harrison appeared, 
and together we had breakfast, and, five hours later, 
dinner. 

It was six o’clock in the evening when we rolled into 
the station at Jersey City, and alighted. I was a little 
stiff from the long ride, but not near as much so as I 
would have been had I travelled in the ordinary cars. 

“We’ll cross the ferry at once,” said Mr. Harrison. 
“ The sooner we get to New York, the better.” 

“ And the sooner we get to Brooklyn, the better,” I 
added. “ Do you think it will be advisable for me to 
hunt up Mrs. Agatha Mitts to-night ? ” 

“ I think it would. Even if you don’t call on her, 
you can find out about her and see how the land lies. 
We will find a hotel to stop at first.” 

We were soon in New York and on our way up 
Broadway. Opposite the post-office we found an 
elegant hotel, where Mr. Harrison hired a room for 
himself. 

He insisted on my having supper with him. Then 
leaving our handbags in his room, we started for the 
Fulton Street ferry to Brooklyn. 

It was now growing dark, and the streets were filled 
with people hurrying homeward. I tried to keep as 


IN THE METROPOLIS 


245 


close to Mr. Harrison as possible, but something in a 
window attracted my attention, and when I looked 
around he was gone. 

I supposed he had gone on ahead and hurried to 
catch him. But in this I was mistaken, for in no 
direction could I catch sight of the gentleman. 

Deeply concerned, I stood on the corner of a narrow 
street or alley, undecided what to do. Should I go on 
to Brooklyn or retrace my steps to the hotel ? 

I had about made up my mind to go on, when a dis- 
turbance down the alley attracted my attention. 

Straining my eyes in the semi-darkness, I discovered 
several rough-looking young fellows in a group. 

“ Give it to him, Bandy ; hit him over the head ! ” I 
heard one of them exclaim. 

“ Fair share of plunder, Mickey,” cried another. 

And then I saw a helpless young man in their midst, 
who was being beaten and no doubt robbed. 

I did not give thought to the great risk I ran, but 
hurried at once to the scene. 

“ What are you doing here ? ” I asked. 

“ Help me ! help me ! ” called out the young man, in 
a beseeching voice. 

I stared at him in amazement. And no wonder. 
The young man was Duncan Woodward. 


CHAPTER XXXII 


A NIGHT AT THE HOTEL 

“Duncan Woodward!” I exclaimed. “Is it 
possible ? ” 

He gave me a quick look of wonder. “Roger 
Strong ! ” he gasped. “ Oh, save me, Roger ! These 
rowdies want to kill me ! ” 

Even as he spoke he received a cruel blow in the 
side. 

“ I’ll help you all I can,” I replied promptly. 

I knew it would be a waste of words to try to argue 
with the gang of toughs, so I simply went at them in 
a physical way. 

I hit out right and left with all my might, and as 
quickly as I could, repeated the blows. 

The suddenness of my attack disconcerted the three 
footpads, and when Duncan recovered sufficiently to 
lend a hand, one of them took to his heels and disap- 
peared up the alley. 

The two remaining ones stood their ground, and 
called on their companions to come back and bring 
“Noxy an’ de rest.” 


246 


A NIGHT AT THE HOTEL 


247 


I received a blow in the shoulder that nearly threw 
me over on my back. But I straightened up, and in 
return gave my assailant a hard one in the nose that 
drew blood. 

“ Duncan, you clear out to the street,” I whispered. 
“ I’ll come after.” 

The young man followed my advice, first, however, 
stopping to pick up several things he had dropped or 
that had been taken from him. 

When he was twenty or thirty feet away I started 
after him. As I did so, I noticed he had left a large 
note-book lying on the ground. I took it up, and 
hurried on. For a moment more we were safe upon 
the street again, and the two toughs slunk away up the 
alley. 

Then, for the first time, I noted something about 
Duncan that I thought shameful beyond words. 

He had been drinking heavily. The smell of liquor 
was in his breath, and it was with difficulty that he 
kept from staggering. 

“ You’re my best friend,” he mumbled. “ My enemy 
and my friend.” 

“What are you doing in New York, Duncan?” I 
asked. 

“ Come on important business, Roger. Say, take me 
to the hotel, will you? That’s a good fellow.” 

“ Where are you staying ? ” 

“Staying? Nowhere.” 


248 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“ Then why don’t you take the train to Newville and 
go home? ” 

“ Can’t do that.” 

“ Why not ? ” , 

“ The old gent would kill me. He says I spend too 
much money. Well, maybe I do.” 

“ You’ve been drinking, Duncan.” 

“ So I have, Roger. Take me to a hotel.” 

“Will you promise to go to bed and not to drink 
any more if Ido? ” 

“Yes. I’ve had enough.” 

“ Then brace up and come with me.” 

Not without a good deal of difficulty did I manage 
to make him walk several blocks to a good though not 
stylish hotel. Here I took him into the office and 
explained the situation to the clerk in charge, who 
promptly assigned us to a room on the third floor. 

The charge was three dollars, which Duncan with 
some difficulty managed to pay ; and then we took the 
elevator to the third floor. 

The room was a good one, with a soft bed. No 
sooner did Duncan reach it than he sank down, and 
in five minutes he was fast asleep. 

I was in a quandary as to what to do. I did not 
care to leave him in his present state, and at the same 
time I was anxious to find Mr. Harrison and visit Mrs. 
Agatha Mitts in Brooklyn. 

I wondered if my kind friend from Chicago had 


A NIGHT AT THE HOTEL 


249 


gone on without me, until I suddenly remembered 
that the Brooklyn address was in my pocket, and that 
he probably did not remember the street and number. 

This being the case, he had no doubt returned to 
the hotel and was awaiting me. 

I looked at Duncan, and made up my mind that he 
would sleep several hours, if not longer, without 
awaking. 

Making him as comfortable as possible on the bed, 
I left the room, locking the door behind me. 

Down in the office I explained the situation to the 
clerk when I left the key, and he promised to attend 
to matters if anything unusual happened. 

I was not very well acquainted with New York City, 
and in trying to find my way to the hotel at which 
Mr. Harrison was stopping, I nearly lost my way. 

But several inquiries, made here and there, set me 
right, and at length I reached the large, open corridor. 

As I was about to step into the office, a well-known 
voice hailed me. 

“Well, here you are at last.” Of course it was Mr. 
Harrison. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ Did I lose you, or vice verm ? ” he went on. 

“ I don’t know. I’m sure it wasn’t intentional, any- 
way.” 

“ Have you been over to Brooklyn ? ” he continued 
curiously. 


250 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“No, sir.” 

“ I thought you had ; it is so long since we parted.” 

“I’ve had quite an adventure in the meantime.” 

“ Indeed ? You didn’t meet Chris Holtzmann or this 
Aaron Woodward, did you? ” 

“I met Mr. Woodward’s son,” I replied, and in a 
brief way I related my adventures. Mr. Harrison 
listened with deep interest. 

“It is too bad that the son has started in such a 
wrong path,” he said. “ I trust it teaches him a lesson 
to let liquor alone. What do you intend to do now ? ” 

“ I suppose I had better go back and stay all night 
with him. It is now too late to go to Brooklyn.” 

“ I think you are right. I can call for you at, say, 
eight o’clock in the morning.” 

This was agreed upon, and as it was then after nine 
o’clock, I hurried back to Duncan at once. I found 
him still sleeping, and I did not disturb him. There 
was a lounge in the room, and throwing off my coat, 
vest, and shoes, I made my bed upon this. 

For once I found it difficult to sleep. It seemed to 
me that my adventures must soon come to an end. 
Was it the foreshadowing of coming events that dis- 
turbed me ? I could not tell. I wondered how all 
were at home ; my sister Kate, Uncle Enos, and the 
Widow Canby, and I prayed God that I might be per- 
mitted to bring good news to them. 

About midnight I fell into a light doze. Half an 


A NIGHT AT THE HOTEL 


251 


hour later I awoke with a start. Some one was talking 
in the room. Sitting up, I listened intently. It was 
Duncan, muttering in his sleep. 

“Lift the spring, Pultzer,” he said in a whisper. 
“Hist! don’t make so much noise, the old gent may 
hear you.” He paused for a moment. “There wasn’t 
any money. But I’ve got the papers, yes, I’ve got the 
papers, and when I find out their true value the old 
gent shall pay me to keep quiet.” 

I could not help but start at Duncan’s words. Like 
a flash of lightning came the revelation to me. He had 
entered his father’s library and taken the papers which 
Mr. Woodward had accused me of stealing. 

It was as clear as day. It explained why Pultzer, 
accompanied by another, who must have been of the 
party, had been out so late the night of the robbery. 
They had helped Duncan in his nefarious work, hoping 
they would be rewarded by the finding of a sum of 
money. Evidently the Models were a bad set, and I 
was thoroughly glad Dick Blair had turned his back 
upon them. 

I waited with bated breath for Duncan to continue 
his speaking, but was disappointed. He turned over 
on his side and dreamed on, without a word. 

At length I fell asleep. When I awoke it was day- 
light. I jumped up and looked at Duncan. He was 
just stirring, and a moment later he opened his eyes. 

“Where am I?” he asked, with a puzzled look at me. 


252 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“ You’re all right, Duncan,” I replied. . “ Don’t you 
remember ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, I do now. How my head hurts. Is there 
any water around ? ” 

I went over to the faucet and drew him a glass. He 
sat up and gulped it down. 

“ Have we been here all night ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“You saved me from those toughs that wanted to 
rob me last night ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ I’m not dreaming ? ” 

“No, you’re not,” I laughed. “I was just in the 
nick of time.” 

“I know it all. You saved me, brought me to this 
place, and put me to bed. Roger, you’re a better fellow 
than I thought you were. You’re a better fellow than 
I am.” 

“ You ought to turn over a new leaf,” I said. 

“Don’t preach, Roger.” 

“ I’m not preaching. I’m only telling you something 
for your own good.” 

“ I know it. I don’t blame you. I’ve been doing 
wrong — sowing my wild oats. But they’re all gone 
now. Just let me get straightened out and I’ll be a 
different fellow, see if I’m not.” 

“ I hope so with all my heart. What brought you 
to New York?” 


A NIGHT AT THE HOTEL 


253 


He started. 

“I — I came — I don’t care to tell,” he stammered. 

“ W ere you going to Brooklyn ? ” I questioned, struck 
by a sudden idea. 

“ Why, how did you know ? ” he exclaimed. 

“You have certain papers,” I continued. 

“ Yes, I — ” he felt in his pockets. “ Why, where 
are they?” 

“ Are they in this ? ” I asked, suddenly remembering 
the note-book I had picked up, and producing it. 

“Yes, yes, give them to me.” 

“ I think I had better keep them,” I replied decidedly. 


CHAPTER XXXIII 


IN BROOKLYN 

I fully understood the value of the papers that were 
contained in the note-book. Mr. Aaron Woodward 
would not have persecuted me so closely had he not 
deemed them of great importance. 

And when I told Duncan I would keep them, I meant 
what I said. It might not be right legally, but I was 
sure it was right morally, and that was enough to quiet 
my conscience. 

“ Better keep them ? ” repeated Duncan, as he sprang 
to his feet. 

“ Exactly.” 

“ You have no right to do that.” 

“ I don’t know about that. I was arrested for having 
them, and what’s the use of my having the name with- 
out the game ? ” 

Duncan sank down on the edge of the bed again. 

“ If you had spoken to me like that yesterday, I’d 
have wanted to punch your head,” he said. “But 
you’re a good fellow, Roger, and I don’t blame you for 
acting as you do. Do you know what the papers con- 
tain?” 


254 


IN BROOKLYN 


255 


“ I think I do.” 

“ They concern my father’s affairs,” he went on un- 
easily. 

“ And my father’s as well,” I added. 

“ Not so very much.” 

“I think so.” 

“ Let me show you. Hand the papers over.” 

“Excuse me, Duncan, if I decline to do so. You, 
aided by Pultzer and others, stole them from your 
father’s library, and then threw suspicion on me.” 

“I didn’t throw suspicion on you. My father did 
that himself.” 

“ You had nothing to do with that handkerchief?” 

“ I took the handkerchief by accident.” 

“ Then I beg your pardon for having said so,” I said 
heartily. 

“Never mind, let that pass. I’ll tell you what I’ll 
do. Give me the papers and I will restore them to my 
father and tell him the truth.” 

“I must decline your offer.” 

“ Why ? Don’t you believe I’ll confess ? If you 
don’t I’ll give you a written confession.” 

“No, it isn’t that. I am going to keep the papers 
because they are valuable to me.” 

“ What do you mean by valuable ? ” asked Duncan, 
his curiosity increasing. 

“Just what I say.” 

“ What will the old gent say when he hears of it ? ” 


256 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“I don’t care what he says. He’ll hear of a good 
deal more before long.” 

“How about the robbery at the Widow Canby’s?” 

“That will be straightened out, too.” 

There was a knock on the door, and, opening it, I was 
confronted by one of the servants. 

“ Mr. Strong here, sir ? ” he asked. 

“That’s my name.” 

“ A gentleman below to see you, sir. Gave his name 
as Mr. Harrison.” 

“Tell him I will be down in a minute,” I said. 

“ Now I’m ready to leave you,” I went on to Duncan, 
when the servant had departed. “ I advise you to take 
a good wash, get your breakfast, and take the first train 
home. Good-by.” 

“Yes, but, Roger — ” 

“By doing that you may be doing your father a 
greater service than in any other way. You say you 
will turn over a new leaf, and I hope you will. If all 
goes as it should you will have a hard trial to stand 
before long. But do as I did when things went wrong 
in our family, bear up under it, and if you do what’s 
right somebody is bound to respect you.” 

And, without waiting for a reply, I caught up my hat 
and hurried from the room. 

I found Mr. Harrison waiting for me in the parlor. 

“ I thought I’d come over early,” he explained. “ I 
know young blood is impatient, and I half expected to 
find you gone.” 


IN BROOKLYN 


257 


u I didn’ t want to make a call before folks were up,” 
I answered. “ Besides, I have made quite an important 
discovery since we parted.” 

“ Indeed.” 

“ Yes. Come away from this place and I’ll tell you. 
I don’t want to meet Duncan Woodward again.” 

And as we walked away from the hotel I related the 
particulars about the note-book. 

“You are gathering evidence by the wholesale,” 
laughed Mr. Harrison. “ You’ll have more than enough 
to convict.” 

“ I don’t want to make a failure of it,” I said firmly. 
“When I go to court I want a clear case from start 
to finish.” 

“ Good ! Strong, I admire your grit. Come in the 
restaurant, and while we have a bit of breakfast let us 
look over the papers. I declare, I was never before 
so interested in some one else’s affairs.” 

And as we waited for our rolls, eggs, and coffee, we 
read the papers through carefully. 

They gave much information, the most startling of 
which was that John Stumpy and Ferguson were one 
and the same person. 

“That explains why Mr. Woodward made so many 
slips of the tongue when addressing him,” I said. 

“Here is another important thing,” remarked Mr. 
Harrison ; “a letter from this John Woodward stating 
that Mrs. Agatha Mitts knows of the forgeries. Now, 


258 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


if you can get this woman to testify against the two 
culprits, I think you will have a clear case.” 

“And that is just what I will force her to do,” I said, 
with strong determination. 

I could hardly wait to finish breakfast. Fortunately 
it did not take Mr. Harrison long to do so, and five 
minutes later we were on our way to the ferry. The 
trip over the East River, near the big bridge, did not 
take long, and we soon stood on the opposite shore. 
Vannack Avenue was pretty well up town, and we took 
the elevated train to reach it; 

“ There is No. 648,” said Mr. Harrison, pointing to 
a neat three-story brick building that stood in the 
middle of the block ; “ let us walk past first, and see 
if there is any name on the door.” 

We did so, and found a highly polished silver plate 
bearing the words : — 

Mrs. Agatha Mitts 
Boarding 

“ Perhaps it would be a good plan to find out some- 
thing about the woman before we c*all on her,” sug- 
gested my companion, after we had passed the house. 

“ There is a drug store on the corner,” I said. “We 
can stop in there. No doubt they’ll think we are look- 
ing for board.” 

“An excellent idea.” 

We walked down to the drug store. On entering, 


IN BROOKLYN 


259 


Mr. Harrison ordered a couple of glasses of soda water 
and then called the proprietor aside. 

“ Can you tell me anything about the lady that keeps 
the boarding-house below here ? ” he asked. 

“ Which one ? ” 

“Mrs. Agatha Mitts.” 

“I’ve heard it’s a very good house,” was the non- 
committal reply. 

“You know the lady?” 

“ She comes in here once in a while for drugs.” 

“ May I ask what kind of a woman she is ? ” 

“Well, she’s good enough in her way, though rather 
eccentric. I understand she furnishes good board, 
however. She has kept the house for many years.” 

“ Has she many boarders ? ” 

“Eight or ten. She used to have more. But they 
were rather a lively set and hurt the reputation of 
the place.” 

Mr. Harrison paid for the soda, and a second later 
we quitted the place. 

“Not much information gained there,” said my Chi- 
cago friend, when we were once again on the street. 

“ One thing is certain,” I replied. “ She is the right 
party. It would never have done to have tackled the 
wrong person.” 

“ I guess the best thing for us to do is to call on the 
woman without waiting further.” 

“So I think.” 


260 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“ She may be a very hard person to manage. Strong, 
you must be careful of what you say.” 

“ I shall, Mr. Harrison,” I replied. “ But that 
woman must do what is right or go to prison.” 

“I agree with you.” 

Ascending the steps of the house, I rang the bell. 
A tidy Irish girl answered the summons. 

“ Is Mrs. Agatha Mitts in ? ” I asked. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“We would like to see her.” 

“ Will you please step into the parlor ? ” went on the 
girl, and we did so. 

“Who shall I say it is?” 

“Mr. Harrison,” put in my Western friend. 

“Yes, sir.” 

The girl disappeared. My heart beat strongly. It 
seemed to me as if life and death hung upon the meet- 
ing that was to follow. 


CHAPTER XXXIV 


MRS. AGATHA MITTS 

I COULD not help but wonder, as I sat in the parlor 
with my friend Mr. Harrison, waiting for the appear- 
ance of Mrs. Agatha Mitts, what kind of a person the 
keeper of the boarding-house would prove to be. 

For some reason the name suggested to me a tall, 
gaunt female with sharp features ; and I was taken by 
surprise when a short, dumpy woman, with a round 
face, came wobbling in and asked what was wanted. 

“This is Mrs. Agatha Mitts?” asked Mr. Harrison, 
as he arose. 

“Yes, sir. And you are Mr. Harrison, I suppose. 
I don’t remember you.” 

“ I didn’t think you would,” laughed my friend from 
Chicago. “I am from the West, and have never 
before been in Brooklyn.” 

“Yes? Then your business with me is — ? Per- 
haps you desire board ? ” and she smiled ; first at him 
and then at me. 

“No; we do not wish board,” was the quiet reply. 
“We come to see you on business.” 

261 


262 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“And what is it?” 

“We would like to see you privately.” 

“ Certainly. Pray take a seat. I will close the doors.” 

She shut the folding doors leading to the sitting 
room, and then the door to the hall. 

“Now I am quite at your service,” she said, and 
peered at us rather sharply. 

There was an awkward pause for a moment, and 
then Mr. Harrison went on bluntly: — 

“Has Mr. Aaron Woodward or Chris Holtzmann 
been here since yesterday, madam? ” 

Mrs. Mitts started at the mention of the two names. 
Then she recovered herself. 

“Whom did you say, sir?” she queried innocently. 

Mr. Harrison repeated his question. 

“Why, I really haven’t heard of those two gentle- 
men in so long a time I’ve nearly forgotten them,” 
she said sweetly. 

“ They weren’t here yesterday ? ” I put in. 

“No.” And this time her tone was a trifle cold. 

“Do you expect them to-day?” I went on. 

“No, I don’t.” She paused a second. “Is that all 
you wish to know ? ” 

“No, ma’am,” I replied promptly. “There is a 
good deal more I wish to know.” 

“ Who are you, if I may ask ? ” 

“My name is Strong.” 

She looked puzzled for a moment. 


MRS. AGATHA MITTS 


263 


“ I don’t recognize the name,” she said, and then she 
suddenly turned pale. 

“ I am the son of Carson Strong, who was sent to 
prison for alleged forgery and the passing of worthless 
checks,” I continued. “I suppose you remember the 
case.” 

44 Har — hardly,” she faltered. “I — I — heard some- 
thing of it, but not the particulars.” 

44 That is strange, when you were so interested in it.” 

44 1 ? ” she repeated, in pretended surprise. 

44 Yes, madam,” said Mr. Harrison. “You were 
very much interested.” 

44 Who says so ? ” 

44 1 say so,” said I. 

44 You ! You are only a boy.” 

44 1 suppose I am, but that doesn’t make any dif- 
ference. You know all about the great wrong that 
has been done, and — ” 

44 It is false ! I know nothing ! ” she cried in anger. 

44 You know all, and we want you to tell us all you 
know before we leave this house.” 

Mrs. Agatha Mitts arose in a passion. 

44 1 want you to get out of my house at once ! ” 
she ejaculated. 44 1 won’t stand your presence here 
another minute.” 

44 Excuse me, madam ; not so fast,” said Mr. Har- 
rison, calmly. 44 My young friend Strong is quite 
right in what he says.” 


264 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“ I don’t care what you think about it,” she snapped. 

“ Oh, yes, you do. Perhaps you don’t know who 
I am,” went on my Western friend, deliberately. 

The sly insinuation had its effect. Evidently the 
woman had a swift vision of a detective in citizens’ 
clothes before her mind’s eye. 

“ You come in authority,” she said faintly. 

“We won’t speak about that now,” said Mr. Har- 
rison. “ All we want you to do is to make a complete 
confession of your knowledge of the affair.” 

“I haven’t any knowledge.” 

“You have,” I said. “You know everything. I 
have papers here belonging to Woodward, Holtzmann, 
and Ferguson to prove it. There is no use for you 
to deny it, and if you insist and make it necessary 
to call in the police — ” 

“ No, no ! Please don’t do that, I beg of you,” she 
cried. 

“ Then will you do as I wish ? ” 

“But my reputation? It will be gone forever,” 
she moaned. 

“It will be gone anyway, if you have to go to 
prison,” observed Mr. Harrison, sagely. 

“ And if I make a clean confession you will not 
prosecute me ? ” she asked eagerly. 

“ I’ll promise you that,” I said. 

“You are not fooling me?” 

“No, ma’am.” 


MRS. AGATHA MITTS 265 

She sprang to her feet and paced the room several 
times. 

“I’ll do it,” she cried. “They have never treated 
me right, and I do not care what becomes of them so 
long as I go clear. What do you wish me to do, 
gentlemen ? ” 

I was nonplussed for an instant. Mr. Harrison helped 
me out. 

“ I will write out your confession and you can sign it,” 
he said. “ Have you ink and paper handy ? ” 

“Yes.” 

Mrs. Mitts brought forth the material, and we all sat 
down again. 

“Remember to give us only the plain facts,” I 
said. 

“ I will,” she returned sharply. 

In a rather roundabout way she made her confession, 
if it could be called such. It filled several sheets of 
paper, and it took over half an hour. It contained but 
little more than what my readers already know or sus- 
pect. She knew positively that Mr. Aaron Woodward 
was the forger of the checks, Holtzmann had presented 
them, and Ferguson had so altered the daily reports 
that my father had unwittingly made a false showing 
on his books. About Weaver she knew nothing. 

When once explained the whole matter was as clear 
as day. 

When he had finished the writing, Mr. Harrison read 


266 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


the paper out loud, and after some hesitation the woman 
signed it, and then we both witnessed it. 

“I guess our business here is at an end,” said my 
Western friend. 

“I think so,” I replied. “But one thing more, Mrs. 
Mitts,” I continued, turning to her. “If Mr. Wood- 
ward or Chris Holtzmann calls, I think you will find it 
advisable to keep this affair a secret.” 

“ I will not be at home to them,” she replied briefly. 

“ A good plan,” said Mr. Harrison. “ Now that you 
have done the right thing, the less you say about the 
matter the better for you.” 

A few minutes later, with the paper tucked safely in 
my pocket, we left the house. Mrs. Mitts watched us 
sharply from behind the half-closed blinds. 

In half an hour we were down town and across the 
ferry once more. 

“ I suppose you wish to get home as soon as possible,” 
said Mr. Harrison, as we boarded a street-car to take 
us to his hotel. 

“ Yes, sir. My sister and the rest will be anxious 
to hear how I’ve made out, and besides I’m anxious 
to learn how things have gone since I have been 
away. ” 

“I’ve no doubt of it.” 

“ What do you intend to do ? ” 

“ I hardly know. I have some business, but I am 
quite interested in your case, and — ” 


MRS. AGATHA MITTS 


267 


“Would you like to go along! You’ll be heartily 
welcome, sir.” 

“ Thank you, I will. I want to see how this drama 
ends,” said Mr. Harrison. 

A little later I procured my valise, and we set out 
for Darbyville. 


CHAPTER XXXV 


THE WIDOW CANBY’S MONEY 

I AM sure my readers will well understand why my 
thoughts were busy as the train rolled on its way to 
Newville. I could hardly realize that I held the proofs 
of my father’s innocence in my possession; and I was 
strongly tempted several times to ask my kind Western 
friend to pinch me to make sure that I was really awake, 
and was not merely dreaming my good fortune. 

Mr. Harrison probably guessed what was passing in 
my mind, for he placed a kindly hand upon my shoul- 
der, and said, with a smile : — 

“Does it seem almost too good to be true?” 

“That’s just it,” I returned. “The events of the 
past week have so crowded on each other that I’m in 
a perfect whirl.” 

“You will have a little more excitement before 
it is over.” 

“ I suppose so. But now that I know it is all right 
I shall not mind it. I wonder if I couldn’t send my 
father the good news by telegraph?” 

“You can easily enough. But don’t you think you 
268 


THE WIDOW CANBY’S MONEY 


269 


had better wait until all is settled ? You might raise 
false hopes.” 

“No fear; Aaron W oodward is guilty beyond a doubt. 
But I will wait if you think best.” 

It was not long before the train rolled into Newville. 
On alighting Mr. Harrison insisted on hiring a cab, and 
in this we bowled swiftly on our way to Darby ville. 
As we passed out of the city and up on the country 
road I wondered how matters had progressed during 
my absence. Had the merchant returned home ? 

At Darbyville a crowd of men gazed at us with curi- 
ous eyes. Among them was Parsons the constable and 
others who knew me. 

“ Hello, you back again ? ” shouted Parsons. 

“Yes, indeed,” I replied. “I suppose you didn’t 
expect me so soon?” 

“I’ll allow as how I didn’t expect you at all,” he 
returned, with a grin. 

“Well, you were mistaken. I’m back, and back to 
stay,” said I. 

My heart beat high as we turned into the side road 
that led to the Widow Canby’s house. I strained my 
eyes to catch sight of the first one who might appear. 
It was my Uncle Enos. He was doing a bit of mend- 
ing on the front fence. As soon as he saw me he threw 
down his hammer, and ran toward us. 

“Well, well, Roger, struck port again, have you? 
Glad you’re back.” 


270 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


And he shook my right hand hard. 

“My friend, Mr. Harrison, from Chicago,” said I. 
“This is my uncle, Captain Enos Moss.” 

They had hardly finished hand-shaking, when Kate 
and the Widow Can by came out of the house. 

“ Oh, Roger, I’m so glad you’re back ! ” cried Kate. 
And then she looked earnestly into my eyes. “Did 
you — did you — ” 

“ Yes, Kate, I’ve succeeded. Father’s innocence can 
be proven.” 

“ Oh, thank God ! ” cried my sister, and the tears of 
joy started from her eyes. I felt like crying, too, and 
soon, somehow, there was hardly a dry eye in the 
group. 

“ You must have had a hard time of it,” said the 
Widow Canby. 

“ My kind friend here helped me a good deal,” I said. 

Mr. Harrison was introduced to the others, and soon 
we were seated on the piazza, and I was relating my 
experiences. 

The interest of my listeners grew as I went on. 
They could hardly believe it possible that Mr. Aaron 
Woodward, with all his outward show of gentlemanli- 
ness, was such a thoroughly bad man. When I came 
to speak of John Stumpy, alias Ferguson, Kate 
burst out : — 

“ I declare, I’ve almost forgotten. I’ve got good 
news, too. This very morning I went hunting again 


THE WIDOW CANBY’S MONEY 


271 


and picked up the paper that was lost. I was trying 
to read it when you drove up. Here it is.” 

And my sister handed over Nicholas Weaver’s dying 
statement. 

“ It is hardly of use now,” I said. “ Still, it will make 
the evidence against Mr. Woodward so much stronger.” 

“I’ve discovered that this Nick Weaver was a chum 
of Woodward’s,” said Uncle Enos. 

“ A chum ? ” 

“Yes. He came from Chicago.” 

“ From Chicago ! ” I ejaculated. 

“ Exactly.” 

Meanwhile Mr. Harrison was examining the state- 
ment, which Kate had produced from her dress pocket. 

“I see it all,” he cried. “Nicholas Weaver was the 
man who helped Holtzmann concoct the scheme whereby 
a relative in Chicago was supposed to have died and 
willed Aaron Woodward all his money.” 

“I see. But why did he leave the statement?” 
I asked. 

“ Because, he says here, Woodward did not treat 
him right. This Ferguson or Stumpy was a friend to 
Weaver, and the paper was gotten up to bring Wood- 
ward to terms.” 

That explanation was clear enough, and I could easily 
understand why John Stumpy had come to Darby ville, 
and how it was the merchant had treated him with so 
much consideration. 


272 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“ And there is another thing to tell you, Roger,” put 
in the Widow Canby. “ Something I know you will 
be greatly pleased to hear.” 

“ What is it ? ” I asked, in considerable curiosity. 

“ I have evidence to show that this John Stumpy was 
the man who robbed me of my money. Of course I 
knew it was so when Kate and you said so, but out- 
siders now know it.” 

“ And how?” 

“ Miles Nanson saw the man running from the house. 
He was hurrying to get a doctor for his wife, who was 
very sick, and he didn’t stop to question the fellow.” 

“ But why didn’t he speak of it before ? ” I asked. 
“He might have saved us a deal of trouble.” 

“ He never heard of the robbery until last night, his 
wife has been so sick. He can testify to seeing the man.” 

“I’m glad of that,” I said. “But unfortunately, 
that doesn’t restore the money.” 

“No, I suppose not. This Stumpy still has it.” 

“ No ; he claims to have lost it,” I returned, and I 
related the particulars as I had overheard them in the 
boarding-house on the opposite side of the Pass River. 

“I wish I could find it — the money, I mean — as I 
did the papers,” put in Kate. 

“Where did he jump over the fence?” I asked 
suddenly. 

“Down by the crab-apple tree,” said Uncle Enos. 

“ Have you looked there ? ” queried Mr. Harrison, 


THE WIDOW CANBY’S MONEY 


273 


“No,” said Kate; “you don’t think — ” she began. 

“There is nothing like looking,” said my Western 
friend, slowly. 

“I guess you’re right,” I replied, “and the sooner 
the better.” 

In a minute I was out of the house. Kate was close 
on my heels, and together we made our way to the 
orchard, followed by the others. 

“Now, let me see,” I went on. “If he went over the 
fence here he must have vaulted over. I’ll try that, 
and note how the money might have dropped.” 

I placed my hands on the top rail and sprang up to 
vault over. As my head bent over, my eyes caught 
sight of an object lying in the hole of the fence post. 

I picked it up. It was the Widow Canby’s pocket- 
book. 


T 


CHAPTER XXXVI 


“all’s well that ends well” 

Of course I was highly delighted with the success of 
my search, and as I brought forth the pocketbook all 
the others gave a cry of surprise. 

“You’ve got it, Roger!” ejaculated my uncle. 
“ You’ve got it, just as sure as guns is guns ! ” 

“ So I have,” I replied, as coolly as I could, though I 
was at the top notch of excitement. 

“ Better examine it,” put in Mr. Harrison, cautiously. 
“ It may be empty.” 

“-Empty ! ” cried Kate in dismay, and the word sent 
a chill through my own heart. 

With nervous fingers I tore the pocketbook open. 
I suppose I ought to have given it to the widow, but I 
was too excited to think of what was just right and 
what was not. 

“ The money was in a piece of newspaper,” said the 
Widow Canby. “I had — ah, there it is!” 

And sure enough, there it was — nearly three hun- 
dred dollars — safe and sound. 

I almost felt like dancing a jig, and could not refrain 
274 


“ALL*S WELT, THAT ENDS WELL ” 275 

from throwing np my hat, which I did in such a way 
that it caught in a limb of a tree, and forced me to 
climb up to recover it. 

As I was about jumping to the ground I heard a 
buggy pass on the road. LoQking down, I was sur- 
prised to see that it contained Mr. Aaron Woodward 
and Chris Holtzmann. On seeing the party on the 
ground below, the merchant stopped his horse and 
jumped out. 

“ How do you do, Mrs. Canby ? ” he said, as he came 
over to the fence without catching sight of me. 

“Pretty well, Mr. Woodward,” was the widow’s 
reply. 

“ Have you heard anything of your money yet ? ” 
went on the merchant, with apparent concern. 

“ Oh, yes — ” and the widow hesitated. 

My sister whispered something in her ear. 

“ It was just found,” said Kate. 

The merchant gave a start. 

“You don’t mean it!” he cried. “Where?” 

“ Down here by the fence.” 

“ Who put it there ? ” asked Mr. Woodward, sharply. 

“No one. It was dropped by John Stumpy.” 

“ Humph ! Perhaps so ! ” sneered the merchant. 

“It’s true,” exclaimed Kate, stoutly. 

“More likely by your brother Roger.” 

“Avast there ! ” cried Uncle Enos. “You’re saying 
too much.” 


276 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


“I don’t think so,” replied Mr. Woodward, in deep 
sarcasm. “ Of course you want to shield the boy all 
you can, but I’m sure in my mind that he is guilty.” 

“ And I’m positive in my own mind that I ’m inno- 
cent,” said I, and I jujnped to the ground. 

“ Roger Strong ! ” he cried, stepping back in sur- 
prise ; and I saw Chris Holtzmann give a start. 
“Where did you come from?” 

“I came from — up a tree,” I returned lightly, and 
I may add that never before had I felt in such particu- 
larly good humor. 

“ Don’t trifle with me,” he cried in anger. “Answer 
my question.” 

“I will when I get ready.” 

“You refuse?” 

“ Oh, no. But I’m not compelled to answer, under- 
stand that, Mr. Aaron Woodward. I’ll answer because 
I choose to do so.” 

“ Never mind,” he snapped. “ Where have you 
been ? ” 

“To Chicago — as you know — and to Brooklyn.” 

“To Brooklyn ! ” he cried, growing pale. 

“Yes, sir, to see Mrs. Agatha Mitts.” 

“ And did you see her ? ” he faltered. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ And she — ” he began. 

“What she said or did will be produced in court 
later on,” put in Mr. Harrison. 


“all’s well that ends well” 277 

“ Eh ? ” the merchant wheeled around. “ Who are 
you ? ” 

“My name is James Harrison. I am from Chicago. 
I am this boy’s friend, and I am here to see justice done.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ I mean that you and your colleagues — Chris 
Holtzmann there, John Stumpy, alias Ferguson, and 
the late Nicholas Weaver — have foully wronged this 
boy’s father.” 

“ It’s a lie ! ” cried Aaron Woodward, with a quiver- 
ing lip. 

“It’s the truth,” I said. “The plain truth, and I 
can prove every word of it.” 

“ Prove it ! ” 

“Yes, in every detail, Mr. Aaron Woodward. I 
have worked hard fighting for honor, but I have won- 
Soon my father shall be free, and for aught I know to 
the contrary, you will occupy his place in prison.” 

“ I ! ” cried the merchant, in horror. “ A likely 
thing ! ” 

“We shall see,” I said. “In the meantime be 
careful of what you say against me, or I will have you 
arrested before sundown.” 

Mr. Woodward gave me a look that was savageness 
itself. Apparently he was on the verge of giving way 
to a burst of temper. But he seemed to think better 
of it, and turning, he jumped into his buggy and drove 
away. 


278 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


It was the last time I ever saw him. On the follow- 
ing day Mr. Harrison, Uncle Enos, and myself drove 
down to Newville and engaged a first-class lawyer 
to take up the case. This legal gentleman pushed 
matters so fast that on the following Monday all the 
papers necessary for Woodward’s arrest were ready 
for execution. 

The officers came to Darby ville late in the afternoon 
to secure their man. They were told that Mr. Wood- 
ward had gone to New York on business. They 
waited for him the remainder of the day and all of 
the next. 

It was useless. The highly respected head merchant 
of Darbyville did not appear ; and an examination 
showed that he had mortgaged his house and his 
business, and taken every cent of cash with him. 

It was an open acknowledgment of his guilt, and 
Kate was for letting it go at that. 

“ It will do no good to have him locked up,” she 
said. 

“ One thing is certain, sech a rascal ain’t fit to be 
at liberty,” put in my Uncle Enos. 

“ He may turn around and rob somebody else,” 
added the Widow Canby. 

“That’s just it,” I said; and determined to bring 
the man to justice, I set a detective on his track. 

The search was successful, for in a week Aaron 
Woodward was caught in Boston, preparing to embark 


“ all’s well that ends well 


279 


for Europe. He was brought back to Newville to 
await the action of the grand jury. But he never 
came to trial. In less than a week he was found in 
his cell one morning, dying. Rather than face the 
humiliation of going to jail he had taken his life. 
What became of Duncan I did not know for a long 
while until, through Mr. Harrison, I learned that he 
was in Chicago working for one of the railroads. He 
had the making of a good fellow in him, and I trust 
that he became one. Chris Holtzmann disappeared, 
and his Palace of Pleasure is a thing of the past. 
John Stumpy went to Texas, and I heard that Pultzer 
went with him. 

It was not long before my father received his pardon 
and came home. I cannot express the joy that all 
of us experienced when he came forth from prison, 
not only a free man, but also bearing the proofs of his 
innocence. We were all there to greet him, and as rhy 
sister Kate rushed into his arms I felt that fighting for 
honor meant a good deal. 

Five years have gone by. My father and I are now 
in business in Newville. We live in Darby ville, along 
with my uncle, — who married the Widow Canby, — 
and my sister Kate. 

Holland & Mack have recovered all that was stolen 
from them. They were profuse in their apologies to 
my father, and offered him a good situation, which he 
declined. 


280 


TRUE TO HIMSELF 


- .1 

We are all happy — especially Kate and I. During 
off hours we are all but inseparable. I like my work, 
and expect some day to be a leading merchant. The 
clouds that hung over the family honor have passed, 
and sunshine seems to have come to stay, and that 
being so I will bid my readers good-by. 


THE END 


S£P -11334 











































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